


Baby Blue

by Azia (orphan_account)



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drug Dealing, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Multi, Other Tags May Apply, Terminal Illnesses, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Azia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To put it in the most simplest terms: Wade had cancer, Peter's aunt had cancer. Paying for treatment is way out of both of their budgets. Wade had the connections, Peter had the smarts. </p><p>Together, they could pull off the biggest cocaine trade that New York had ever seen and earn more money than they could ever need. The initial plan was simple enough, but things got complicated (as they always did).</p><p>[A <i>Breaking Bad</i> AU.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter Park's Last Gleaming

_The doctor rearranged the papers on his desk and sighed. The young man seated ahead of him had that dazed look in his eye again, and was looking off in no particular direction. The doctor snapped his fingers. The sudden sound brought the young man back to attention. "Mr. Wilson, did you listen to anything that I had just told you?"_

_He nodded and straightened up slightly in his seat. "Yeah, doc. Terminal. I'm listening."_

-

Peter Parker crumbled the blue pamphlet in his hands – _What You Need to Know About: Lung Cancer_ – and listened intently. Some too colorful, nonsensical shit from _The Simpsons_ was humming at a comfortable volume ahead of him and the whisperings of patients and the buzzing of various machines were the only other sounds in the room, other than the pressing sound of Wade Wilson’s voice.

“But fuck DARE, you know what I mean right?”

“Drug Abuse Resistance Education?” Peter’s voice was hollow. His eyes held no intentions behind the retinas. Peter didn’t watch _The Simpsons_ often, but the episode was focused on a character who he knew to be Sideshow Bob. He wasn’t in the particular mood for slapstick and satire. He had the burning urge to just get up and turn the television off, but judging from all of the sad, focused eyes on the T.V., the show was the highlight of a lot of people’s days.

“Wow, okay, you’re smarter, we know that. Don’t have to go around defining all these acronyms and shit for me.” Wade shifted slightly in his seat. Wade was seated in a cloth chair just like everyone else. Peter was sitting in the one next to him. Usually a plastic folding chair would have been provided for him, but there weren’t a lot of attendants that day. Peter wondered if they had all died before the chemo could set in. “But, uh, where was I? Oh yeah, fuck DARE. They’re just trying to hold everyone back from their true potentials. You just need a little push, you know? Just a little shove by the pinky finger to the back and then you’re in euphoria, I tell you. One time I swore that I had been transported right into _The Golden Girls_. I was singing ‘Thank You For Being a Friend’ with Bea Arthur and eating empanadas with her in one moment, and then the next I was drowning in a puddle of my tears because I realized that the show came off three years ago and Bea doesn’t do jack shit but specials and talk shows now and days.”

“Wade,” Peter slowly said. He let the other’s name slowly rolled off his tongue. It would have been the understatement of the millennium to say that Peter was merely surprised to see Wade at the hospital, receiving chemotherapy and chattering on and on about cocaine (or was it heroine? – maybe marijuana?), as if nothing was wrong. As if Peter’s world wasn’t falling apart. As if his old flame and aunt weren’t slowly yet quickly dying and his uncle wasn’t missing.

“And then one time I got really sad, like super depressed, beyond the point of the really frowny face that’s all blue with the tears going off the page on the doctor’s chart. I had my head in a bowl of milk – hadn’t even put my cereal in it yet – and was just sobbing about the fact that I let that DARE tiger or lion or whatever down. I just kept thinking, ‘I’m so sorry, I let you down. I let the whole program down. But I can’t stop.’ Let’s just say, I had my head in that bowl of milk all morning and I caught a cold. That’s why I didn’t show up for school that week. I was milking that cold out for all it was worth, no pun intended unless you want it to be.”

“Wade,” Peter repeated. “I’ll do it.” He unfolded the pamphlet in his hand and smoothed it out. The cover was bent and flipped open to the glossary. Peter’s eyes caught on the definition of advanced cancer: cancer that has spread to other places in the body and usually cannot be cured or controlled with treatment.

Wade grew uncharacteristically silent for a moment. Peter looked at him. He looked like he had just experienced the surprise of the millennium also. “Seriously?” Peter could tell whenever Wade was downhearted. It was obvious physically. Dark circles were under his eyes and there was already some evidence of hair loss that Wade tried to cover up with a new cut. He was wearing a large baggy jacket, probably to hide the fact that he was losing more weight than he was ready for.

“Seriously,” Peter confirmed. “Anything for Aunt May.”

“Wow, I was not expecting you to actually agree.” Silence grew over them once more as a nurse with an afro went past them and turned the T.V. to _Coronation Street_ and began to fuss with an older patient’s drip. A few patients groaned at having the cartoon being changed. Wade leaned in towards Peter. Peter sighed and leaned in towards him also. “Meet me on Saturday? We get pizza and then go to my place, around four o’clock. I’m home all day on Saturdays. It’ll be nice to have somebody else eat the other half. Large supreme, no mushrooms right? I know you hate mushrooms. Or was it onions?”

“Yeah, mushrooms. You still liv—”

“Yup. I think that it’s gonna be my first and last house.” Wade chuckled. Peter winced. Hurt was laced throughout his voice and he was making too much of an effort to hide it.

“Okay.” Peter released his death grip on the pamphlet and held his hand out. “Let’s shake on it.”

“Yeah, we’re about to get into some deep shit together. I’m excited though. You’re excited too, right?” Peter shrugged. Wade laughed again, a sound more genuine, and shook his hand. The familiar sensation of electricity flowed in between their fingertips and Peter did his best to suppress the feeling.

Peter quickly released his hand from Wade’s hold and leaned back against his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. His mind was racing. “It’s Daren the Lion,” he murmured with a smirk.

“There you go again! I told you to stop. Nobody likes a know it all.” Peter allowed himself to laugh at that. He looked at Wade again. _November 26, 1995_ , Peter starkly thought, _marks the day that I agreed to become a part of the drug business with my ex to help pay my dying aunt’s medical bills_. He dug his nails into the pamphlet. He was getting into deep shit indeed.


	2. Better Call Al

_The nurse stopped messing with the IV pack. There was nothing inside of it anyway. The two patients that she had been watching left in a loud manner. One of them had thrown a pamphlet on the ground and the other had knocked down his own IV when he stood up. The nurse sighed. She had to clean it up later._

_“Still can’t believe that_ Matlock _came off,” the patient in front of her murmured. Her eyes were glued to Coronation Street though. The nurse shrugged. “So, did you hear them?”_

_“Yes. They’re planning on dealing to save up money for medical expenses.” The nurse helped the elderly woman back up to her feet. “Do you think that they’re serious?”_

_The woman shrugged. “Did you get their names?”_

_“The loud one was Wade Wilson. He’s a high school graduate, non-small cell lung cancer, stage II. The other was Peter Parker, high school senior, his aunt, also guardian, has NSCLC too, stage III though.” The woman nodded._

_“I’ll get on with it. Thanks Heidi.”_

_“Take care Ms. Al.”_

-

Wade still lived in LeFrak City, just outside of Forest Hills. Peter walked the entire way there. He wasn’t wasting a dime on bus or taxi fare. Peter hated going to LeFrak City, it was so dreary all the time. When he walked up to the large brick apartment building that Wade resided in, the strong smell of urine overwhelmed his nose and he stepped in a stray pile of trash.

Peter walked up to Wade’s room as fast as he could.

After his graduation, Wade had become a ghost. No one had really seen him anywhere around Queens and Peter tried to not concern himself with whatever Wade was doing. They had broken up in his sophomore year and he got together with Gwen Stacy in his junior year. He tried to let Wade be a ghost, but Peter was still haunted by him. And when Peter learned that Wade had cancer too, he didn’t know how to react.

The smell of pizza overtook the smell of dog, cat, and human piss once Peter reached Wade’s room. He entered without knocking. Wade usually kept his door unlocked and old habits died hard.

There were ten pizzas lied up on Wade’s sorry excuse for a coffee table (it’s been two years, and he still used a door on top of two broken cabinets for a table), all supreme and with no mushrooms. Wade was on the couch, a controller in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.

“Hey Petey, you actually showed up!” Peter closed the door behind him. “Sit down, sit down. Let’s talk business.” Peter took the seat next to Wade, where an unused controller was. “So, guess what this is? No, don’t. It’s the Sega Saturn. Yeah, that’s right, I got the Sega Saturn. It hasn’t even come out in America yet. I think it comes out next year. It’s only available in Japan right now. Good thing I dabble in Japanese. You probably don’t, but I think that you’ll figure the controls or whatever soon enough.”

Peter picked up the controller and his own slice of pizza. Wade was playing some Japanese fighting game. Peter couldn’t recognize a single character on the screen or a word that any of the players were yelling at one another. The game looked fun though.

“We’re supposed to be talking business,” Peter reminded Wade. Wade shrugged. He was wearing the same jacket from Sunday and a vibrant hat that did not match his outfit. Peter wondered if he had lost even more hair and was being self-conscious about it.

“Yeah, I know. Geez, you’re always straight to the point. Remember when we would talk for hours and hours about everything and nothing at the same time?”

Peter gulped. He quickly selected a player on the screen and took a bite of his pizza. “Yeah.”

“Okay, business: I work at 7-Eleven. You know the one down in Forest Hills? Yeah, I take the night shift. Big mistake, why would somebody wanna trust me with their store at night? You know how much food I’ve stolen from there? The boss thinks there’s some ‘Midnight Snack Thief,’ but it’s me. Anyway, 7-Eleven isn’t going to pay for any of my bills. I only get nine-twenty by the hour for being a cashier – barely enough to pay for the apartment, let alone cancer.”

“Costs $1,650 a month, right?”

“Stalk much?”

“I was doing research,” Peter muttered. He had been anticipating his meeting with Wade. He had an entire week to do research on everything: drug trafficking, New York’s division of the DEA, lung cancer, and the costs of everything in between.

“You know, let me be honest for a second, I seriously was not going to go through with chemo. Like, when you came in on Sunday, I was planning for that to be my last treatment. But when I saw you, I decided to keep going with it. I feel like you’ll be devastated if I just let myself bite the bullet, because you’ve been going through so much with your aunt and uncle.”

Peter cleared his throat. “So, I looked up all that I could about the drug hustle. It goes from Kansas City and Atlanta before it goes to Albany, and then from Albany it goes to Toronto, Montreal, Quebec, and then from there it goes all the down to Colombia.” Wade nodded.

“Sounds about right. Our best bet is to go to Albany then.”

“Wait, I can’t just drop everything and move all the way up to Albany! It’s 155 miles away, and has tolls. Plus, what if Uncle Ben comes back? I have to be there for him.”

“I didn’t say we’re _moving_ to Albany, I just said that we have to _go_ there. Don’t be so melodramatic, Pete. It’ll be easier to have a station or something there. We can rent an apartment for cheap and set up camp there. We just can’t do anything in Queens. It isn’t a good idea to shit where you eat, if you know what I mean.” Peter wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know what Wade meant half of the time.

“So, are we manufacturing or distributing? Because, if we’re making cocaine or whatever, who’s going to be our supplier? Stuff doesn’t exactly grow on trees here. And if we’re selling, then, yeah, Albany’s our bet.”

“What college you planning to go to Petey?” Peter blinked.

“Uh, none probably. I might have to drop out to help with Aunt May’s expenses. I’m the only one bringing money in the house and her costs are starting to pile up and working part-time isn’t covering anything.”

“No, stay in school. Just graduate at least, so you have something to fall back on in case things don’t work out. Got it?”

“Okay?” Peter wasn’t sure if he would have been able to graduate. Things were getting harder and harder. Wade’s character was pummeling his character into a pulp on the screen.

“Are you planning on going to college for something science-y? You’ve always been really good at science.”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe. I’ve been considering it, actually.”

“How’re your grades in chemistry?” Wade sounded like an overbearing parent. It was weird to listen to for Peter.

“My chemistry grades are fine, mom. What’s the point of this interview?”

“I see you got your humor back. But seriously, how good are you doing in chemistry though?”

“I’m in AP Chem – best in the class. Let’s not brag though.”

“That’s great! It’s official, we’re cooking.” Peter wasn’t so sure. Just because he was good at chemistry, didn’t mean that he was going to be a master craftsman at making cocaine right off the bat.

“Problem: I know next to nothing about making cocaine.”

“You’re close to a genius and I know the basics, so you’ll get it. Don’t worry about a thing.” Wade leaned over to put a box of pizza in between them. Pizza and video games, relaxing at Wade’s house, Peter was feeling ultra-nostalgic.

“So the plan is that we’re going to Albany to make cocaine?” Wade gave a grunt of approval. His mouth was full of pizza. “It sounds good so far, but how are we supposed to find a supplier and dealers though?”

“Calm down, Petey. I got it covered. I got everything together practically. You’re just the missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle. Now, stop looking for holes in the plan. Makes me feel like I don’t have anything together. I have everything together. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you for help.” Wade then defeated Peter’s character by exploding half of his face off and blowing him off the screen. Excited cheering in Japanese played as the screen faded to black to show the fight’s statistics.

Peter still felt unsure. He hadn’t done anything yet, he could back out at any time, but he also wanted to help Wade as much as he wanted to help himself and his aunt. He still cared for him.

Wade took his hand suddenly. “We got this in the bag.” He winked.

Peter slowly released his hand. “I have a girlfriend.”

Wade busted out laughing. “Oh, really? Is it that redheaded chick named after marijuana or the blondie that always wears green for some reason?”

“I’m dating Gwen, Gwen Stacy. Uh, I broke up with Mary Jane a while back.”

“Oh yeah? So you like Gwen Stacy now?”

“Yeah. We both like each other. A lot.”

“You’re lying.”

“Huh?”

“Whenever you lie, you always look around the room.” Peter sank down into the couch. Guilty as charged. “What’s up with you and Gwen, trouble in paradise?”

“She’s been annoyed with me lately. I’ve been moping around a lot, especially whenever we’re together, and she gets really mad at the fact that I’m not as happy as I used to be I guess.”

“What’s her problem? Your aunt has cancer and your uncle went missing, of course you’re going to be sad about it.”

“I could be a little less mopey though. I haven’t even tried to pretend to be happy whenever we go out.”

“You’re fine. You know what, if she was a good girlfriend, then she would understand that you’re going through a rough time. So what if you don’t smile while you’re at dinner, at least you’re at dinner, right? She could be eating alone.” Peter was unsure about how to feel about how Wade was speaking about Gwen. There was deep resentment twisted into his words.

A phone rang before Peter could respond. Wade pulled out a peach-colored cellphone from his jacket pocket. He flipped it open without looking at the screen. “Hello?” A wide smile took over his face. “All right. We’ll be there.” Wade hung up the phone and pulled Peter to his feet. “We got a deal down the street.”

“How exactly do we have a deal when we haven’t even gotten started yet?”

“I’ve been in the business for about a week or two. Get with the program Pete. My program by the way, not the DARE one. Fuck DARE, remember that. They’re our nemesis.”

-

Wade stashed something into his jacket pocket before he and Peter went off to the meeting place. They were behind a closed down Chinese restaurant, secluded from eyes on the street. Peter was surprised to see an old woman in a colorful sweater and a large pair of round, heavily tinted sunglasses. She smirked as the two boys approached her.

Wade groaned. “Ugh, Al, why’d you call me? What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet your new partner.” Wade groaned again.

“This is Peter. Peter, this is Blind Al. She’s been in the game since she was in high school. Now that you two know each other and are best friends, can we leave?”

Al wasn’t concerned with Wade. She turned towards Peter. “Are you sure about this? Once you start, it’s tricky to get back out.”

Peter had a long week of research and lonesomeness to lull over his decision. He was sure. He was sure that he was sure. He started to nod before he realized that Blind Al was blind. “Yes, I’m sure. I need the money.”

“All right. Whatever you say.” She straightened her sunglasses. “I have news: our supplier is out, permanently. I managed to find another one in Brooklyn, Brownsville to be exact.” She reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled something out. Wade passed the object down to Peter. It was a pink and white phone with Hello Kitty stickers all over it.

“If you think you’re being tracked, take the battery out and toss the phone,” Blind Al instructed, “Don’t use the same phone for too long and don’t give the number out to anyone involved in your personal life.”

“Business gets sticky when you mix it with pleasure,” Wade snickered. Peter nodded and pocketed the phone. Figures that his first cellphone was going to be a Hello Kitty trap phone. They could have a least given him something in the neutral zone like Wade’s.

“You two getting started in Albany?” Al asked.

“Yup,” Wade answered. Peter looked behind him. He felt like someone was spying on them and was going to report them to the police at any given moment.

“Good. I have a lot of connections in Albany, but if you two are manufacturing, it’s not a safe cook sight. The DEA just had a nice three-day bust there and I lost a couple of contacts. There’s a nice place in the North Country – secluded and DEA doesn’t expect much from the countryside.” She took out a piece of paper from her sweater. “If you go decide to go to the North, go to Watertown. I have a guy who can set you up there. Go to the bookstore, ask for the ‘autographed copy’ of _Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman, and he’ll know what you’re talking about.”

Wade looked over the paper and nodded. “Thanks. Let’s go Petey.” Al shoved another slip of paper into Peter’s hands as Wade turned to leave.

“If things get too heated and you want out, call me.”

“Thank you for the help.” Peter ran to catch up to Wade.


	3. The Coke's In the Bag...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching _The Golden Girls_ all week for strictly research purposes only. :)

_“Great Beijing! What’s your order?”_

_“Sunny, it’s me Al. Looks like a spot just opened up for you in Watertown. Are you gonna take it?” Sunny loudly cackled over the phone. Al could hear his wife yelling for him to shut up in the background. Al was aware that Sunny had his tics, but he was a good communicator and could make a nice replacement for the Bookie Joint. “Is that a yes or no?”_

_“It’s a yes, yes, yes. Yes three times. “_

-

Peter pulled on the closest shirt he could find – red, plaid, Uncle Ben possibly bought it – and the letterman jacket that his school had practically forced down his throat to wear. He placed some bread in the toaster and turned on his answering machine.

“You have two new messages.” Peter pressed for them to play and collected his toast. “Thursday, December 22, 8:30 A.M.”

“This is Nurse Heidi König. I am calling to inform you that May Parker’s next surgery has been rescheduled for the second of January. If you have any qualms against this rescheduling, then please call back as soon as possible. Take care Mr. Peter.”

Peter hurriedly deleted the message. There was going to be so much on his plate during winter break. He had agreed to begin working with Wade over at the start of break and now his aunt had surgery at the end of it. At least the nurse hadn’t called to inform him that anything bad had happened. She was just getting surgery. Maybe after the procedure she would get better. And then maybe Uncle Ben would come back home and maybe everything would just be a Christmas miracle after all.

Peter sighed and pressed for the next message to play. “Friday, December 23, 9:24 A.M.” Peter glanced at the oven’s clock. The message had been left ten minutes ago.

“Hey Peter, it’s Gwen. We haven’t been on a date in, what, two weeks now? I really miss you. Please call me back as soon as you can.” Peter’s hand hovered over the telephone. He had to cancel on her. He could tell her that he was busy, but with what? _I’m sorry Gwen, but I’m making cocaine with Wade all break long. Rain check?_

The door swung open suddenly. Peter started and dropped his toast. He huffed and threw it away. There went breakfast.

“Good morning Petey! Let’s go!” Wade was wearing a matching black hat and jacket now. He grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him outside. There was a black SUV parked outside the house. Peter wondered how he, Wade, and the truck had all managed to match. Wade practically shoved Peter on the passenger seat and started the car off before he could buckle his seatbelt.

“Whose car is this?” Peter tried to catch his heartbeat again and buckled up his seatbelt. They didn’t need a police officer pulling them over on the first day of their operation.

“Al’s. Before you ask, I already got snacks. Look at the backseat.” Peter looked. There was bag upon greasy bag of Taco Bell taking up the majority of the seat. “Yeah, that’s right. I got a lifetime supply of Taco Bell! Pass me a bag since you’re looking.” Peter was about to make a wisecrack about how Wade must have been made of cheap hot sauce and Grade D beef, but he held his tongue. Wade was still wearing an elephantine jacket. Peter hadn’t seen even an inch of his arms or stomach since they have been reunited.

“The bag with the nachos or the one with burritos?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Peter gave him the bag with nachos. He wasn’t sure if Wade needed fattening up, but nachos seemed like a slightly healthier choice than burritos. Aunt May had completely lost her appetite and vomited outputs faster than inputs when she had started chemo. Peter was glad to see that Wade at least still hungered. “You can get whatever you want you know.”

“Not hungry.” Peter leaned back against his seat. Blind Al had a nice taste in cars. This was the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in next to the one time he accidentally took a really fancy subway to Brooklyn. “What’s on the itinerary?”

“We’re gonna hit everywhere today. First stop’s Brownsville, Brooklyn, where our supplier’s at, remember?” Peter nodded. “Eighteen minute drive, six-point-six miles – easy enough drive.”

-

They managed to find the place that Blind Al had described for them without a hitch: Alpine Shepard Boy’s Pizza Palace, ran by Meta Weiss. Wade opened the door for Peter and a bell overhead tingled as they both walked in. The pizzeria looked like it was just satisfactory for the average health inspector. Peter stepped in something on his way to the counter. He wiped it off on another part of the carpet. He needed to stop stepping in things.

A woman with bleached hair and a round face approached them. META WEISS was across her nametag. She was carrying a large glass bowl of triple-layered Jell-O – red, yellow, and green colored. “Cool Jell-O,” Wade said. Meta shook her head and pointed her spoon at the Jell-O.

“ _Götterspeise_ , not Jell-O. German jelly is the best jelly.” There was a slight German accent to her voice. “ _Ampelpudding_ is the best kind. Woodruff, raspberry, and lemon flavors.” She took a loud slurp of her _Götterspeise_ and sharply looked at the (not so) dynamic duo with her icy eyes.

“Uh, Blind Al sent us,” Peter offered. She took another bite of the jelly and then waved her spoon towards the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Wade gave an odd squeal as they went to the door.

“Ooh, they usually don’t let me go through these doors.” Peter rolled his eyes. Meta was significantly shorter compared to the two of them. Peter guessed that she barely hit five feet.

There were a couple of workers flipping pizza dough in the back. Peter caught one of them giving him a long stare before he placed the dough inside of an oven. It made shivers go up his spine.

Meta opened up another door and turned on the light. It wasn’t what Peter was expecting for a cocaine lab to look like. Everything was pretty neat and clean – better than the front of the restaurant. Everything was metal and pristine. There were at least ten blue barrels stacked against the corner, the only filth inside of the room. There was mud splattered all over the bottoms of the barrels.

“So, Ms. Meta, I’m sure you heard of me, but this here is Peter. He’s a chemistry genius who doesn’t know how to make coke yet, so now’s high time to teach him.” Meta took a long slurp of her jelly and eyed Peter. Peter felt nervous again. There was just something wrong about the way that everyone was looking at him.

She led them to one of the barrels and twirled her spoon in front of it. Peter went to open it. There were coca leaves stacked to the brim inside of it. “I get my leaves from Colombia – striped, dried, and sent straight here. If the leaves get wet, they rot, and they’re useless.” Wade grabbed a pile of the leaves and moved them to another part of the lab. “Only two species of the plant have enough cocaine to sell.” Peter nodded. He had read somewhere that out of over two hundred species of coca plants, only two had enough cocaine to be made into the drug.

“Two ways to make cocaine: solvent extraction and acid extraction. Here’s solvent extraction.” She spoke so matter-of-factly. Peter was sure that he was going to get tired of her monotonous tone very soon. “First, chop the leaves finely.” She paused and looked at the both of them. Wade shrugged and they both got to chopping. A surreal feeling took over Peter. He was in the back of some Brooklyn pizzeria chopping up coca like it was some sort of field trip activity.

“Dust them with salt and a little bit of water. Lime works too, but salt is cheaper.” Wade and Peter did so.

Peter managed to memorize the steps of solvent extraction and acid extraction quite easily. If he forgot a step anyway, he could just ask Wade. Wade knew an almost frightening amount of information on cocaine manufacturing.

They turned the coca past into street cocaine and some of the street cocaine into crack cocaine. Wade was very stentorian about the difference between them. ( _“Cocaine you snort, crack you smoke. Say it with me: snort coke, smoke crack!”_ )

Meta gave them the product they made and enough supplies and materials to make more before they were off. Wade stored them in a compartment in Al’s car. Peter prayed that the police weren’t going to pull them over.

-

Wade and Peter stood outside of a small brick house. Wade was frowning, a rare expression for him. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t Albany.” Peter noticed the giant WELCOME TO MALTA sign when they entered town.

“I noticed.” Peter shrugged. Wade took two keys out of his pocket, handed one to Peter, and went to unlock the door.

“Albany’s out of our budget and the closest place I could afford is Malta. Don’t worry though. We’ll be able to live in Albany soon enough. No, you’re a natural at this. We’ll be able to live in _Manhattan_ with the stuff you’re brewing.” Peter nervously chuckled. He wasn’t sure if he liked being called a natural at making cocaine.

Wade took his hand and led him around the house. Peter let him. He hated to admit it, but there was something comforting about the way Wade held him. It was familiar. Peter craved familiarity. Everything was getting stranger and stranger as the days went on.

“So you can see right here that we have the master bedroom. Too bad the place only has one bedroom, I’m sure the kids are going to upset that we have to share a room, huh honey?” Peter smiled and shook his head. “Sugar lumps, why are you laughing? This is serious. Beatrice Ann and Arthur Lee are going to be very upset when they learn that they’re not getting their own rooms. A family affair is not fun, I don’t care who says so.”

“Really, Beatrice Ann and Arthur Lee? What’s up with you and Bea Arthur?”

Wade whisked him down the hallway without answering the question. They went to the bathroom. The bathtub was a rosy shade of pink and the light was flickering, but still managed to illuminate the room with the slightest blue hue.

“And the kids are going to hate the ten-minute bathroom rule. And why is the bathtub pink? There is too much testosterone in this house for a pink bathtub. We have to get this replaced immediately.”

Peter squeezed Wade’s hand. “You know, I don’t care if we’re in Malta. It would’ve been risky to be in Albany anyway.” Wade briefly frowned again before he squeezed Peter’s hand in return.

“Can I hug you?”

“Um, I’m not sure that that’s a good id—”

“I’m doing it anyway.” Wade wrapped Peter up in his arms. Peter let him. There was more than just amity and goodwill behind the hug, he knew that. Wade was moving his hands up and down Peter’s back, a comforting gesture for the both of them. Peter felt him rest his chin against his head. “I missed you baby boy,” Wade murmured.

“I missed you too,” Peter whispered back. He had to admit it. He really had missed Wade and the aura of familiarity he always brought with him.

-

Wade and Peter stopped at a 7-Eleven halfway between Malta and Watertown to restock on gas and snacks (and for Wade to have a potty break) and then switched drivers. Peter didn’t drive often, but now was a good time to practice. They had a long road ahead of them to Watertown, three hours and 164 miles.

Peter rested his hands against the stirring wheel as Wade devoured a bag of gummy worms that he had purchased from the gas station.

“You know,” Peter started, “in Chile, in the ‘80’s, there was a dictator named Augusto Pinochet. He ordered his army to build a clandestine cocaine lab and they made black cocaine that could be smuggled into the US and Europe. They called it Coca Negra. The cool thing about black cocaine is that since it’s not white, people don’t suspect it immediately. And it interferes with color-based drug tests and drug dogs can’t sniff it out.”

Wade threw the half-empty bag out of the car window and rolled it up. “I did a good job recruiting you. You’re always full of fresh ideas.” Wade started coughing. It was a hacking cough that came from the chest. Peter looked at him worriedly. Aunt May’s coughing spells had scared him to no end.

Wade went through his pockets and pulled out a red circler pill organizer. He opened the compartment marked for Friday and swallowed down the four pills inside of it. He then took out a joint from his other pocket. Peter tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Don’t smoke in the car. Blind Al might be mad if we give her car back with taco stains and smelling like ganja.”

Wade waved him off and pulled out his lighter. “Weed gets rid of my urge to hurl everything that I eat and makes me hungry. I can’t function without it.” Peter silently pulled out of the gas station.

-

The bookstore was ironically named the Bookie Joint. Wade’s cough returned as they entered the establishment. A balding man with thick eyebrows stood at the counter, JAKOB SCHMIDT was embroidered in red across his shirt pocket.

“Hey Schmidt, I’m looking for the autographed copy of _Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman. You got it?” Jakob rubbed his boisterous nose and gave a curt nod towards Wade and Peter before he pointed them to the door behind the counter. The room in the back was small and dark. There was only a small table in the center of the room with a large map of the North Country pinned to all corners of the table. He pointed to a sparse area on the map.

“Perfect area. No one lives there. You two will cook in abandoned train there.” There was a German accent to his voice also. Peter found it peculiar that all of the contacts that Blind Al had given them so far were of German origin.

“Perfect area,” Wade repeated. “Let’s go Petey.”

-

They managed to set up and get to manufacturing quite easily in the abandoned train they were given. Wade crushed some leaves while Peter dusted them with salt and lime. “This commute is crazy. We’re better off making this stuff in Malta. Like you said, it’s not Albany, so we shouldn’t get caught by the DEA or anybody there.”

“I liked driving up here with you.” Wade shrugged and was offhand about his statement, but Peter found himself stop dusting momentarily. “It’s the most time we’ve spent together since the breakup. Speaking of which, I don’t even remember why we broke up anyway.”

Peter continued dusting, faster. “Well, after you graduated you became more distant from me, from everybody actually. You outright ignored me for an entire week. And then you moved from Forest Hills to LeFrak City. I went to your house, we argued – our only argument too – and then we broke up.” _And I moved on to Gwen_ , Peter thought.

Wade hugged him from behind suddenly, making Peter drop the salt in his hand. “I have a surprise for you.” Peter didn’t understand how Wade just picked and chose what he wanted to hear. It was an annoying habit of his.

“What is it?” Wade held something in front of his face. It was a packet of pink and red Hello Kitty Ziploc bags. Peter found himself smiling despite himself. “What’re these for?”

“Distributing. I heard you have a thing for Hello Kitty.” Peter snatched the bags from Wade and tossed them towards the corner of the train.

“I hate you and Hello Kitty, how about that?” Wade laughed and backed off him. They then went back to their Coca Negra.


	4. ...And the Bag's In the Pool

_“Hey Captain, check this out.” Captain George Stacy followed the detective down the poolside. The detective pulled on a pair of latex gloves and picked up the object. It was a small brown coffee cup, the kind served at 7-Eleven. “There’s writing on the side,” he pointed out. “’I fucked Peter first.’ Wonder what the hell that’s supposed to mean.” He passed the cup on to the captain._

-

Wade was thoroughly surprised when he weighed the fruits of his and Peter’s labor and found that it all amounted to a hefty ten pounds. They had used up of Meta’s supplies and all of the cocaine was dyed black. Their work was done. Wade was in further shock when he pulled out Blind Al’s drug potency test kit and found that Peter had singlehandedly manufactured 90-percent potency. The average was around 70-percent.

Peter pushed Wade off his back with a tired smile. “We should get to heading back now. Gwen’s going to be very upset if I’m missing on Christmas, Aunt May too if she’s awake.” Wade momentarily frowned.

“Yeah. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get to celebrating Christmas alone again. This’ll be the ninth consecutive year in a row. When we get our money I should buy myself an award and another Santa suit to panhandle in.” Wade tossed the Hello Kitty bags in the back of the SUV, underneath two blankets.

Peter hopped in the backseat and anxiously waited for Wade to finish packing. He pulled down the sun visor and looked at his reflection. There were hints of bags underneath his eyes. It was early in the morning and it took three or so hours to get back to Forest Hills. He had plenty of time to get a nap on the way there.

Peter poked his head out of the car window. Wade was still packing. “Hey Wade, I don’t have all day!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Pete. Wait actually, twist them all you want to. I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that you’re a masochist, let’s test the theory.”

Peter huffed and sat back in his seat. “I’m about to become a sadist if you keep on talking,” he muttered.

Wade laughed as he strapped himself down to the driver’s seat. “You’ll really do that? I really do got the gift of gab.” He pulled away from the abandoned train. Peter didn’t have the chance to really look at the train until then. It was a moderate looking train car that was completely covered in mud and overgrowing plants.

Peter leaned against the seat and closed his eyes. “Do you know how much ten pounds will sell for?”

“Uh, let’s see. I wasn’t expecting a math lesson. Well, a bump goes for three to four dollars.”

“What’s a bump?”

“Wow, you’re a virgin to the game. A bump is a line, you know. When you get a line of white and then snort it.”

“Yes, I knew that much Wade. What about a gram? We’re mainly selling in grams, right?”

“Sixty to eighty dollars for a gram, but with the stuff we’re selling I bet we can safely bump up the price to $100, maybe a little more. And then an eight ball sells for $150 to $250.”

“What’s an eight ball?”

“An eight ball is one-eighth of an ounce, or three-point-five grams, game virgin. You’re like the cocaine baby Jesus, damn.”

“’Cocaine baby Jesus?’ What on Earth is that supposed to mean Wade?”

“I think you know damn well what it means. Hey, I should stop calling you baby boy and start calling you ‘baby cocaine’ instead. It’s more fitting.”

“Why, I’m not your baby boy anymore?” The question had half-serious intentions behind it. He had first been bestowed the affectionate nickname during the novelty stages of their relationship. Back when Peter would sneak out way past curfew to Wade’s house, and they would hold each other and give each other impatient kisses; back when Wade had whispered over and over again that Peter was his baby boy while they grinded and writhed for the first time underneath the pale New Yorker sky.

Back when Wade had yelled at Peter for confronting him and when the latter left, he only watched him go in silence.

“Anyways, there’s 453.592 grams in one pound, that times ten will equal ten pounds, so that equals 4,535.92 grams. Multiply that by eighty, which is about the average for a gram, then that’s $362,873.60 in total. $181,436.80 each if we sell all of it. I’m not sure how much we’re supposed to pay Meta or the dealer though. I’ll calculate that in later.” Peter was taken aback by how Wade managed to avoid the question yet again, but by spewing out numbers.

Peter whistled. “$181,436.80 is a lot of money. It’ll definitely be enough for a few of Aunt May’s surgeries. I might even be able to throw in a nice Christmas gift too.” The car halted suddenly. Peter opened his eyes and sat up. The question as to why the car stopped stayed planted in his throat. The answer was right in front of him.

Jakob Schmidt was pointing a gun right at them.

The bald man gave an ugly smirk that revealed a row of gold teeth. He slowly walked over to the truck – gun poised – and opened up the trunk. Peter and Wade listened to him rustle through their supplies in dead silence. They both looked at each other with wide eyes. A plan formed in both of their minds and they both gave a small nod towards each other.

“Ten pound of cocaine?” Jakob returned to the front of the car. “I’ll be taking it.”

Peter turned to him and held up his hands. He was known for being witty. “How about a compromise? I can teach you how to make Coca Negra, step by step, and you can get 25-percent of our profits.”

“50-percent,” Jakob offered. Peter nodded. He then nodded towards Wade. Jakob hopped in the backseat and cocked the gun at the both of them. The car was blanketed in silence as they drove back to the abandoned train. Peter was on the edge of his seat, but Wade was eerily calm about everything. The only difference in his attitude was his quietness.

When they returned to the train, time stood still. Peter only gave Wade one look and Wade seemed to understand. He hopped out of the car quicker than Jakob could and managed to catch the older man off guard. Peter heard the gun fire once the backseat door opened and winced. No one was yelling in agony, so he assumed that the bullet went off into space.

Peter watched Wade and Jakob struggle for the gun on the ground. Wade had the obvious upper-hand in the situation, being younger and stronger, but Peter was still worried. Jakob managed to grab the gun first and pointed it right in between Wade’s eyes and pulled the trigger.

Peter jumped up to get out of the car, but in that split second Wade turned the gun away from his face and it fired on Jakob. The bullet went in between his own eyes. Peter froze in shock. His eyes focused on the man’s face. He would never get his expression out of his mind: his eyes were wide and his mouth was wider. Blood immediately poured from his head and a misty spray left his mouth. Jakob looked directly at Peter, as if to say, Why didn’t you stop him? His eyes rolled up to the top of his head and his chest seized to move.

The silence in between Wade and Peter turned deafening. Wade made the first move. He slowly unhooked Jakob’s fingers from the gun and tucked it into his back pocket.

“W-Wade…” Wade looked up at Peter. He didn’t look shocked. He didn’t looked surprised. Peter couldn’t detect any look of disturbance, trauma, or anything from him. He still had that sense of calmness with him. Now, there was nothing particularly positive about the look. Wade didn’t look absolutely serene about the fact that he had just killed a man. “W-We could’ve made a deal with him. We could’ve done something…” Peter fully stepped out of the car. He made sure not to step in any of the stray blood on the dirt.

Wade shook his head. He was starting to look more lifeless than the draining body lying right in front of them. “It was either me or him, Peter. Which one did you want it to be?” Wade’s voice didn’t even as much as waver as he spoke. “Did you want me to lose, Peter?”

“No,” Peter whispered. He slowly walked over to the body. The man was beginning to lose color. Peter held his breath. He felt like if he breathed again, he was going to spew forth his stomach’s contents, the smell of blood was so overpowering. He would have preferred the strange, strong perfume odor that cocaine held than the smell of incoming petrification.

“We have to move him.” Wade grabbed Jakob’s ankles and looked up at Peter. Peter let out a slow breath, rolled up his sleeves, and moved to grab his shoulders. He was careful not get any blood on his bare arms. The body was unbelievably heavy, heavier than carrying a person in slumber.

The next moments were in snapshots: they moved the body to the train, covered him in one of Blind Al’s spare blankets, got rid of any evidence that they were there, and then went top speed to Malta.

-

Wade went to a Dollar Store once they reached Malta. He had to pry Peter out of the car. It was almost an involuntary reflex when Peter held tight on Wade’s arm and leaned against his side. He felt like they were inside the store forever, he didn’t even see what Wade had to buy.

Peter wondered if any stray blood had gotten onto his clothes and if the customers noticed. Peter wondered if the smell of death had latched onto his clothes and if the cashier noticed.

Peter stood in the middle of the house. He winced when Wade returned from outside and turned on the lights. He hung up his phone and started to dial another number before he turned to Peter. “I just called Al. She said that Schmidt was a nobody, so he’s not going to send the German Mafia or his big sister Hilda and their cousins after us when they figure out that he’s missing.” Peter could only nod. Wade rubbed his shoulders and held his cellphone up to his ear. “Go take a bath. You look like you need one. I’m not sure if the water’s going to be hot or not, but don’t get into the water until it’s to your liking, got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m gonna go deal this out. Just a second.”

Peter went down the short hallway, past the master bedroom, and to the bathroom. The light flickered on and off for a moment when he entered. The light looked bluer than usual. He dimly wondered if Wade bought any light bulbs at the Dollar Store. The lights definitely needed some replacing soon.

Peter robotically ran the bathwater until it was hot, like Wade said. He slowly removed his jacket, shirt, pants, and underwear. His clothes smelled like two days’ worth of grime, but not blood, thankfully.

He slowly sank into the bathtub. The steam of the water took over his senses and he felt the heat melt away some of his stress, but not all of it. Jakob Schmidt’s last look still flashed in his mind. Peter felt intense guilt. He should have stepped in sooner. He could’ve been able to prevent the man and Wade from being shot if he had just stepped in sooner.

Peter leaned his head against the cool tiled wall and sighed to himself. He heard the bathroom door open and thought nothing of it. Wade was muttering something and was shuffling things around. Peter perked his ears to try to make out what he was saying. “Self-defense, self-defense, it was self-defense,” Wade repeated in a mantra to himself. Peter opened his eyes and found himself shuddering in revelation: so Wade was affected.

Wade rested a Hello Kitty bag on the toilet before he joined Peter in the bathtub. He had a bottle of bubble bath in hand – Mr. Bubbles – and squeezed a blob of gel in between them. Peter moved his legs closer to his body to give Wade more room and solemnly stirred the bubbles until there was nothing but foamy water everywhere.

Peter felt Wade rub the side of his foot against his shin, but neither of them were in the mood for a game of footsies.

“So, have you ever tried marijuana before?”

Peter snorted. “Nice segaway. And no, I haven’t. I don’t really plan on it anyway, so get any ideas out of your head.” Wade shrugged.

“Hey, like I said, it helps me function. It’ll probably help you relax too, but I’m not going to pressure you into anything, it’s probably against the law or something.” _Just like killing people._

Wade reached over and took the bag from off the toilet. There wasn’t any Coca Negra in it, just a joint and a disposable lighter. Peter allowed himself to divulge in watching Wade light the joint, bring it to his lips, and smoke it. He noticed that there were scars all over Wade’s arms, all different depths and lengths. Peter let the sight of white smoke rising out and up from Wade’s lips distract him from any more heartache.

Wade was visibly beginning to relax. Peter’s fingers began to twitch. He had to control his temptations.

Wade let out a staccato of coughs after he leaned against the wall also. “Ever watched _Super Fly_?” He took another inhale of the joint and eyed Peter expectedly, gaze red.

“I never even heard of _Super Fly_. What’s that about?”

“I see that you’re a movie virgin too. I must’ve not taken you to enough movies when we were together. What did we even do, just sneak out to my house all the time? Those were the days though.” Wade laughed, coughed, smoked, and then laughed again. “I remember taking you to the theaters once. What did we see? Was it _Alien 3_ or _The Bodyguard_? No, it probably wasn’t _The Bodyguard_. I would have definitely remembered seeing Whitney Houston. What’s she been doing lately? Her last song had to do with love, right? ‘I Will Always Love You,’ yeah. Kind of suitable in our situation.” Wade tried to wink, but both of his eyes closed.

Peter felt himself begin to lighten up some. Maybe the fumes from the weed were starting to take an effect on him. “Wade, stop getting off topic. What about _Super Fly_?”

“Oh yeah, that’s how this conversation started. _Super Fly_ was this ‘70’s movie about a cocaine dealer named Youngblood Priest. The whole movie’s about how he’s trying to quit the drug business, but everyone around him keeps telling him that there are only two things he’s good at: selling and snorting. They keep on telling him that there’s nothing else he could ever achieve in life.” Wade frowned and took another puff. “I feel like that that’s all I can do now – selling and snorting. This cancer put an expiration date on me like I’m some type of throwaway bottle of strawberry milk, but let me tell you I have always been chocolate milk. Screw strawberry milk, I am much more exciting than that. But anywho, I feel trapped, Petey. Trapped. I feel like there’s no use for me anymore since I’m going to die anyway, you know.”

“Wade, tell me, how long ago was your diagnosis?”

Wade took a long inhale of the joint before he answered, “Since graduation.” Peter outstretched his hand. Wade passed the joint.

Peter did as Wade and tried to breathe in the smoke, but he ended up nearly coughing to death. Wade laughed at his mistrial like it was the funniest thing he had seen in all of his life. Wade moved closer to Peter’s side of the tub and delicately took the joint from him. “Don’t breathe in too hard,” he murmured. Peter followed his gentle instructions and soon felt relaxed also. He didn’t even want to think about the situation. He waved away all of his bad thoughts and finally allowed for the positive ones to take over. He felt like he had reached euphoria. All he needed was a hit of marijuana. Wow.

Wade was next to him now and they took turns smoking. Peter didn’t remember what they talked about, but he knew that it was nonsensical. They splashed bubbles at one another and Wade was getting closer and closer to him and the bad thing was that Peter had no mind to tell him to move; in fact he probably met him in the middle.

They finally moved out of the tub when they registered that the water had gone cold and the bubbles were fading away. They continued to laugh and jabber away as if there wasn’t a handgun in Wade’s back pocket and a blanketed dead body at the outskirts of Watertown.

It took Peter a moment to realize that he was wearing Wade’s jacket, not his letterman. “Keep it and dry-clean it,” Wade said. He pressed his lips against Peter’s, the first time since his graduation, and Peter nearly swooned. He was pretty sure that the sensation of the kiss was enhanced by the tenfold. He nearly hung onto Wade for dear life and was about to kiss him again and again, but another blonde came to his mind. She was sitting in the dark, staring at her telephone, waiting and waiting for a call that was never to come.

“We should start heading back now,” Peter sighed. Wade, seemingly unbothered, only nodded and pulled on Peter’s jacket. It was a smidge too small.

-

Peter’s vision of Gwen wasn’t true. She was sitting at his doorstep practically wrapped up in her long blue jacket. She shot up when she saw him approach her. “Hey Peter.” She grabbed his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Does the hospital stay open this late? It’s nearly midnight. You should really get some sleep. I’m sure Aunt May is fine.”

“She has surgery?” Peter wasn’t sure. Aunt May felt like a distant memory. It took him a moment to dig his keys out of his pocket. He at first took out the key to the house in Malta and spent a good while trying to unlock the door with it. When he finally entered the house, he flinched at the intensity of the light. He didn’t turn it on. Or did he?

“Well, I hope that her surgery goes okay. Maybe this might be it. I always thought that she would be home by the end of the year.” She took off her jacket and hung it up by the door. “I know that you didn’t go to the hospital too early in the morning. I’m sure that you got my messages. You could’ve just told me that you wanted to spend Christmas with May. I would’ve been perfectly fine with that.”

Peter shook his head. “No, I wasn’t at the hospital.” Gwen paused. She looked like she was smelling the air.

“Peter, why do you smell like smoke?”

“Because I was smoking. So what? Why do you care?” Peter didn’t know where his anger was coming from. Possibly within. Everything came from within.

Gwen was taken aback. She took the sides of his face and looked into his eyes. Peter looked back with the most intense stare he could muster. “Your eyes are completely bloodshot.” She took his wrist and pressed her fingers against his vein. “And your pulse is beating like crazy. Peter, I thought that you were better than this. How could you bail on me and get high? What has gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, Gwen, I don’t know.” He wanted her to stop yelling. Everything was so loud. It was giving him a headache.

She tossed his hand away in disgust. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring me for the past few days, so you can solidify your membership with New York’s Official League of Junkies?” Peter laughed until he wheezed. Gwen could be funny when she wanted to. She wasn’t laughing though.

“No, today’s the first day.” He thought about Wade. Wade would have laughed with him. Wade had done more than just laugh with him though in the end. “I got kissed today,” Peter thought aloud. Gwen gasped.

“You got kissed today.” Her voice dropped to a scary tone. “You’ve been cheating on me and smoking behind my back. Peter Parker, you are unbelievable.” Peter moved to say something, but he heard something fall out of his – or Wade’s – pocket. Gwen was faster than him and grabbed the object first. She held it to the light. It was a Hello Kitty bag holding about two grams of Coca Negra.

She was speechless for a moment. Peter could see the cogs of her mind stop turning completely as she stared at the bag. Gwen was smart. She knew what cocaine looked like no matter what color it came in, her father was the captain of the NYPD.

She threw the bag on the floor, spilling some of its contents and went to the door. “So you’re doing crack too? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. How many more secrets have you been keeping behind my back, huh?”

“No Gwen, you got it all wrong. I’m selling it.” Gwen’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she decided to say nothing. She just shook her head and opened the door.

She hesitated for a moment at the doorframe. “I only have one thing to say to you: we’re over.” She then slammed the door in his face. She didn’t take her jacket.

-

Wade ignored his co-worker’s scolding for showing up to work late and high. She should have been happy that he had even bothered to stop at his house to put on his stupid red and black uniform shirt. Red and black were his favorite colors, but now they were forever tainted by 7-Eleven.

When she left, Wade’s phone rang. It took him a second to focus and press the answer button. “Holla atcha boy,” Wade greeted.

“Yo, it’s Colman. Got your money. I’m outside too.” Wade looked at the window. Colman Maguire, his dealer assigned by Blind Al, was at the door with a black duffle bag in hand. Wade waved him in.

“How much money is it?” Wade asked into the phone. Colman looked confused momentarily before he hung up the phone and laughed.

“Yo, you tweaked didn’t you? Lend me a hit man, you’re gonna wanna celebrate when you find out how much that black shit you made made.” He unzipped the bag slightly, just to show a hint of the profits. “Yeah, look at that. $453,592 bitch! Me and Meta get two, so I’m just taking like $9,071.84. Split that in half, and you and your partner get $222,260.08 each if I did my math right.”

“Fuck the security cameras. It’s time to celebrate.” Wade rolled two blunts front and center on the counter. It was a good thing he had come prepared to work that day. His original plan was to waddle in his pity in the back room with a long smoke and maybe a good cry. He couldn’t get the bloodshed of Jakob Schmidt out of his mind. Watertown went to shit fast – or should he say Schmidt. He laughed with a twinge of pain in his heart.

“No man, not that weak shit. I bought a gram myself and turned it into crack on the way here. Let’s do that.”

-

The celebration turned sour fast. Wade and Colman only felt a heightened sense of paranoia. Someone burst into the shop suddenly at one or so in the morning, and that did not help them. Wade pushed the drug dealer into the back room so he could deal the customer accordingly. The sooner they left the better. He felt like someone was out to get him. It better not be this person.

It was some distraught blonde with mascara running down her cheeks. She looked like a disaster. It might have been a ruse though. She might have been trying to distract him with her public display of emotions in order for to steal his Coca Negra. Wade a saved a bag for himself in his jacket pocket (he wasn’t able to find it for some reason, but he knew he had a bag somewhere).

She sniffed and opened up her pocketbook. “Can I get a small coffee, please? Don’t add anything to it. I want it black and bitter, just like me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wade could barely get the words out. He couldn’t even feel his face.

She sniffed and looked up at him. “Oh, Wade, it’s you. I haven’t seen you since gradu—oh great, you’re high too? Is it actually April twentieth instead of Christmas today? Wow, just wow.” She threw the correct amount of change on the counter. Wade counted it three times. He got a different result each time. “Don’t tell me that you were smoking with Peter and his new girlfriend too.” Wade shrugged. He didn’t know how the girl was affiliated with Peter. Maybe she was just trying to get to him.

“Coffee machine’s in the back. Wait a second, sugar lips.” Colman stood at attention when Wade returned. Wade grabbed the small sized cup, brown not yellow as his co-worker always reminded him. He wasn’t going to be making any coffee though. Dirty drug thieves didn’t deserve a nice cup of coffee, no matter how sugary their lips were.

“Who is it?”

“This crazy blonde chick is after the stuff. We need to remind her that she’s being silly, Coca Negra is for Wade Wilson.”

“What should we do with her, Wade?”

“Don’t call me Wade. Show your employer some respect for Bea’s sake.”

“Sorry Mr. Wilson.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Wade whispered a plan and then went to fill the cup with water and placed it in the microwave. He found a Sharpie next to the coffee machine. When the cup was finished heating he scrawled a message across it before he wrapped a napkin around it.

His cellphone rang. Wade groaned and answered it. “Hey Wade,” Peter’s voice said. “I was doing some thinking and I’ve decided that I can’t do this anymore. This drug making and dealing thing isn’t for me, I’m sorry.” Wade broke his phone in half and plastered on a plastic smile as he went to deliver the “coffee.”

“Wait a few minutes before you drink it,” he told the girl, “it’s hot and I don’t have time to get sued in case you burn that pretty little tongue of yours.” She just sighed in exasperation and took her coffee. She said good morning before she left.

Mr. Wilson and Colman followed her in the shadows. She was going through LeFrak City. Interesting. Wade would have certainly remembered if she lived in the apartments. He didn’t have any even remotely attractive neighbors.

On Wade’s signal, the drug dealer pounced on her. He covered her mouth before she could scream. She threw the cup of hot water in the air instead and Colman hissed when the water burned him. Wade was about to jump in to help with her restraining, but they both were tumbling by the poolside and Wade didn’t bring his swimming gear. He didn’t know that things were going to turn into a pool party.

It certainly was not a pool party though. Colman had the girl by her blonde locks and was holding her head down into the water. She tried to pull herself out, but her resistance was making her drown faster. Wade stared at the scene for a moment. He looked at the girl’s face when she managed to come out of the water for just a moment.

It was Gwen.

He was drowning Gwen Stacy.

Reality was crashing down faster than Wade was ready for. By the time he had managed to get a grip of himself though, Gwen was no longer struggling. She was gone. He had killed Peter’s girlfriend.

Maybe he could get some good out of this, his malicious mindset filled in. Maybe now Peter could be focused on his work without Gwen as a distraction. Maybe he could even manage to win him back after all of this.

_Maybe._

Colman had a vicious grin on his face as he pushed Gwen’s still body into the pool. No blood began to pollute the pool. It would have been fitting for Wade though. Everything was too calm about the scene.

The dealer began to scratch at his arms wildly. “Yo, I think I got bugs or some shit underneath my skin man.” He started scratching to the point where he was peeling the skin off of his arms like he was carving into a potato. Wade’s hand flinched to the scars on his arms. He knew the feeling.

“Maybe they’ll go away if you go into the pool.” Wade’s voice had sobered up.

“Yeah, good idea man.” Colman jumped into the pool fully clothed, right next to Gwen’s sinking body. He still scratched at his arms. “No man, it’s not going away.”

“Let me help.”

Wade kicked Colman square in the nose and then held his head against the pool wall with his foot while he was stunned. Colman was too high to put up a real fight. Wade gave him another kick when he felt him begin to go.

Wade hated the feeling of coming down, especially from crack. Cocaine always left him depressed and craving for more. He coughed as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He couldn’t use anything too heavy, now was the time to think. There were two bodies in the pool and anyone could come and see what had happened.

He marched up to his room and pulled out two bottles of undiluted bleach. He knew from experience that water did not wash away fingerprints. Bleach was the strongest thing that he had on deck and it worked great in water. He poured the entirety of the bottles in the pool, specifically on the bodies. There was no blood on the scene or weapons, so the first thing that the police were going to do was look for fingerprints.

Wade returned to the 7-Eleven store and looked up at the security camera. There was only one in the entire store and they barely used it, the thing was so outdated. Wade took off his shoes and threw one at the camera. He managed to knock it down on his first try despite his oncoming fatigue and the seizing pain in his chest. He needed to finish cleaning up before he passed out or something.

Wade went into the back and erased any footage on the camera. The camera was never there. He knew that his boss and co-workers had forgotten about its existence. They never checked the footage to find out the identity of the Midnight Snack Thief or the actual thief that went to their store last week.

Wade threw the camera, his shoes, and the empty bottles in the dumpster outside, took out a (stolen) match, his lighter, and set fire to it all. He watched the fire burn for a moment before he returned back to the store. His left sock was soaked through.


	5. Five O'Clock Shadow

_Wade slowly came out of hiding when the gunshots seized firing. Two police officers grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out from the closet as if he couldn’t walk by himself. Another officer escorted him towards the front door. He paused once he reached the entryway. An officer pushed him. He pushed back._

_“One second,” Wade muttered. His voice was unbelievably hoarse. The duration of his hiding was the longest that he had ever gone without speaking._

_Wade grabbed the family portrait hanging by the door. The photograph itself had remained unharmed, but there was blood splattered all over the glass. Wade didn’t care, nor did the police. Their main goal was to get him out of the house._

_Wade was ushered inside of a cop car. There was an officer in the front seat and a redheaded woman in the back. Wade sat next to her and held the picture in his lap. She flashed a phony smile towards him. He could spend all day counting her freckles._

_“Hello Mr. Wilson, how are you doing?” She must have been some type of counselor or something. She was wearing a beige sweater and even took out a pair of thick glasses to complete the look. Wade stared at her and contemplated what to say next for once. “If you don’t feel like speaking, that’s all right, I understand.” She pulled out a clipboard and gave it to him. There was a red pen in the clip. “You can just write how you’re feeling.”_

_Wade detached the pen and thought over what she said. “You understand?” He pulled the picture out of its frame. It was your average family portrait. His mother had worn her own pair of thick glasses because she had lost her contacts that morning and a neck scarf. His father wore a sweater vest and a long coat, as he usually did. His mother had fussed at him for not shaving beforehand, but his father’s beard was infamous. Wade had worn a plain sweater and jeans. He had persisted on not dressing up, he hated wearing suits. “You understand what it’s like to hear your parents being shot to death, too? Gee whiz, we should start a club. Call it the Underground Society for Fucked up Kids – Toronto Branch.”_

_The woman awkwardly cleared her throat and shuffled around in her seat. The cruiser started to move. Wade wasn’t sure where they were headed to. He had no home to go to anymore._

_“Now, Mr. Wilson, I know you’re upset, but please control your language. There are other ways to channel your anger.”_

_“Oh yeah? What if I did this?” He crossed out his parent’s faces on the photograph. The picture was black and white. The red ink looked like its own shade of angry blood on the photo. Wade then circled his own face, as if he was the next target. Who knew? He probably was._

_“Mr. Wilson, please stop. Now tell me, are you injured in any way?”_

_“No, I’m fine. Ms. Spotty, now tell me, how long of a trip is it from Toronto to Buffalo?”_

_“Buffalo?”_

_“Yes, but as in Buffalo, New York, not the animal.”_

_“I don’t know. Why are you asking? Do you have any family there?”_

_“Nope. It’s just me now. But Buffalo’s the first step to getting to NYC, and that’s where I really want to go.”_

_She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her smile faded. “Excuse me for asking, but what does a fifteen-year-old boy from Canada with no distant relatives or money have to do with New York City?”_

_“He has everything to do with New York City.”_

-

Wade looked down at the tissue he had coughed into. Dots of red speckled all over the white cloth. He rumpled the paper and threw it in the corner. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette.

There was a knock on the door. Wade threw on a pair of pants and looked through the peephole. Two police officers, one male and one female, were standing at the door, hands on hips. Wade took in a deep breath and opened the door. It was time to put forth his master acting skills once again.

Wade slung the door opened and gave the widest grin he could. “Good morning officers! What is it now? If it’s murder, kidnapping, or arson, I didn’t do it. If it’s stealing somebody’s heart and being devilishly handsome, then guilty is charged.” The police officers were not amused.

“We are just here to ask if you noticed anything unusual around the midnight hour,” the male officer said. The female officer took out a notepad and had her pen poised.

“Uh, at midnight I was at 7-Eleven, I do the nightshift. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Wade exaggeratedly looked back and forth as if someone might have been eavesdropping on them. “But between you and me, I was sleeping in the back room majority of the time. The only thing that happened last night was that a girl who went to my school ordered some coffee and then bounced.”

“Well, that girl – Gwen Stacy – was discovered dead in the LeFrak City pool this morning, along with another unidentified man.”

“Tell us, did you notice anything unusual about Miss Stacy last night?”

“Well, she looked all emotional, had mascara all running down her face and stuff. She ordered a coffee, medium, the yellow cups. We didn’t really talk. We went to the same school, but weren’t exactly buddy-buddy with each other. I made the coffee and then she left. I went back to the back and kept on sleeping.”

The officers nodded at one another. “Thank you for your time. Could we get your name?”

“Wade W. Wilson and the second ‘w’ stands for Winston.” Wade shook hands with both officers and closed the door. He leaned against the door for a moment and let out a deep breath. There was no evidence pointing towards him. If he had left a stray print, then the police wouldn’t have been able to trace it to anyone. His fingerprints weren’t in their databases. The only place that had his fingerprints was the Department of Motor Vehicles when he had retrieved his driver’s license, but had he destroyed the prints the day he broke bad.

He was beginning to feel nauseous with all this heavy thinking. Wade went to the bathroom and lifted the lid of the toilet. He waited for the feeling to pass. He hated vomiting ever since he was a kid, when he heard his mother bring up her insides nearly every night until the end. He ended up throwing up for a good minute long, another victory to add to the book along with evading arrest and killing Peter’s girlfriend on Christmas.

Wade rinsed his mouth out before he brushed his teeth. He had a regular toothbrush and a special post-vomiting toothbrush. It was green too – the irony.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He was growing stubble. He usually kept the facial hair to a minimum. Too much facial hair reminded him of a person that he would rather forget. Wade then touched his hair. A clump easily came out, as if he was just scooping sand out of the Earth.

Wade picked up a nearby razor and touched his incoming beard. He then touched his hair. More blond came out onto his hands. He kept on ruffling with his hair until there was a pile of hair next to his hand on the sink. Wade looked between the hair and the razor and then made an impulsive decision.

He shaved his hair off.

He cut his hair, not to the point of complete baldness, just shaved. He had basically given himself a better buzz cut than a mother could give her son on the first day he was heading to the fourth grade. Wade decided to leave his beard untouched. If he was dying, he was going to die as a new man with a new style. No more pretty boy high school Wade Winston Wilson. Now it was time for the pimp slapping, toe tagging, drug slinging, coke sniffing Wade Youngblood Wilson.

And he was ready.

-

Peter clung onto Wade as tightly as he could. He had been broken into pieces when he learned about Gwen Stacy’s death. She had been found floating inside of LeFrak City’s pool without an apparent cause or will. Right after Peter had stupidly admitted that he had smoked with and kissed Wade. They couldn’t have left each other on worse terms.

Peter thought back about the phone call he had received early that morning from Gwen’s parents. Her mother had tearfully said that Gwen had died and her father had given him a slight interrogation for the police. They had recently found out that she was last seen by Wade in the 7-Eleven he worked at before she died.

Peter felt like he was going to tear through Wade’s shirt, but the latter didn’t seem to mind. “Wade?” Wade seemed to know what Peter wanted.

“She came in crying at around midnight, ordered some coffee, and then left. That’s all I know.”

“I-I should pay for her funeral.” Peter wasn’t in tears like he had expected for himself to be. He was in shock, complete utter shock.

“Are you sure you want to give all of your aunt’s money to the Stacy’s?”

“Then I’ll make more.” Wade experienced his own version of shock.

“You still want to do this?”

“I need money.” Peter loosened his grip some on Wade. “I need money desperately.”

Where guilt was absent, relieved happiness filled Wade. He led Peter towards his shoes and the door. “Waddling around in your grief does not help, trust me. Let’s go shopping.”

“But Wade I—”

“No, no. You need some water and sunlight so you can grow up to be a nice little beanstalk.”

-

They ended up going to the local thrift shop with a box filled to the brim of Wade and Peter’s clothes. He had been muttering something about developing new lifestyles since they’re facing such a great milestone in their lives. Peter just let himself be dragged along. He was split between wanting to be alone or with someone in his sorrow, but he was feeling slightly better shopping with the wonder and whimsical Wade.

Wade took off his hat and placed it in the box before he gave it to the cashier. Peter stared at Wade’s lack of hair. He touched the side of Wade’s hair, delicately running his fingers along the new, bristly texture. It was almost foreign. Wade had always taken time out to style his hair, but he definitely meant it when he wanted to develop a new lifestyle.

Wade took Peter’s hand into his. “If I’m gonna go bald, it’s not on cancer’s terms. Plus, I’m not completely bald right now. This is the best buzz cut in history. Am I right?” Peter nodded slightly. Wade moved his hand to his chin, where he felt stubble growing. “And then I want a beard. Never had one before, so this is going to be a fun journey for the both of us. I think that I’m going to look so cool though.”

Peter let Wade continue to hold his hand. They were in the back of the store and concealed away from the cashier, the only other person there.

“What color is your beard going to be?” Peter hated how hollow his voice sounded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wade shuffled through a rack of men’s clothing in black.

“Some people have different colored beards than their hair.”

“Oh, I see what you’re talking about. I think that my beard might be brownish, blackish. Darker than your hair, but not completely black. My, uh, my dad had a different colored hair and beard.” Wade took some clothes and tossed them into Peter’s arms. Wade rarely ever talked about his parents, and Peter never asked. They had always had a silent policy on not speaking about their parents. They were nonexistent as far as they were concerned. “But I am going to be sexy as hell regardless. A beard is what I’ve always needed.”

Wade continued to uphold a one-sided conversation as he piled more and more clothes on Peter. Peter noticed that Wade only picked up black clothes – black sweaters, leather jackets, black hats, dark pants.

“Why so dark, Wade?” Wade took the clothes from Peter and handed them to the cashier.

“Petey, we are at a turning point in our lives, and you are in mourning. Do you want to come out of here wearing rainbow-colored clothes? I don’t think that the Stacy’s would appreciate it.” Wade sighed and pulled something off of a shelf near them, a red and a blue scarf. “There’s some color. You happy now?”

“Gentlemen,” the cashier said. “The clothes that you have donated are worth $100 and the clothes that you are purchasing are worth $200. So in total, you just have to pay $100.”

Wade shrugged and paid the money in cash. He held Peter’s hand again as they left the store.

Meta Weiss and the guy who gave Peter the eye at the pizzeria were sitting in the front seat of Wade’s (or Blind Al’s) truck. They both showed that they had guns in their laps. Wade tucked the box of new clothes in the truck and they both silently went inside the backseat of the truck.

Peter filled with anxiety the entire ride. They were driven to a more secluded area of the city, blocked by trees. They then got out of the car. Meta and the man pointed their guns at the ready. Peter found himself shrinking behind Wade. Getting shot after learning that Gwen died was only the cherry on top for Peter.

“Do you think that August and I would not notice that we are missing a dealer?” Meta cocked the gun at Wade. “Colman Maguire, found dead in swimming pool, Christmas morning. You saw him last. What happened?”

“He came to the 7-Eleven I work at and delivered the money like he was supposed to. We smoked together after I found out how much money we made, and then he left. That’s it, I promise.”

“Was this before or after Gwen came?” Peter whispered.

“Before,” Wade murmured.

Meta and August spoke in German to one another. August threw a book at their feet. It was a simple green hardback, _Leaves of Grass_. “Look familiar?” Meta asked. Peter slowly bent down and picked the book up. “I also find it suspicious that the Bookie Joint has suddenly been replaced by a Chinese restaurant.” They both put their fingers on the trigger. “I don’t believe you.”

Bullets began to fly everywhere. Wade took Peter by the arm and they ran through the trees for cover. Peter felt at least three hot bullet graze his shirt sleeve. He wondered how it feels for a bullet to pierce through his head, like it did with the bookstore owner. Would it be painful, or would the pain be so great that he would go numb?

They both raced towards the city, but bullets continued to fired at them. Wade pulled Peter into an alleyway and the gunwoman and man passed by them. They both took a moment to catch their breaths.

“Petey, you have your phone on you?” Peter pulled out the notorious Hello Kelly cellphone from his pocket and held towards Wade. Wade shook his head. “No. You call the police and tell them that you found two dead bodies on the corner of Yellowstone Boulevard and 62 Road, in the trees.”

Peter confusedly dialed the number. “Why am I saying that they’re dead though?” Wade pulled out a gun from the back of his pants. Peter hadn’t even noticed it. It was the bookstore owner’s gun. “Wade, why?” Wade covered Peter’s eyes and pulled him into his side.

Peter heard footsteps race towards them. More bullets flew, Peter flinched, screams sounded, and then everything grew silent. Wade led Peter out of the alleyway, eyes still covered, slowly.

Peter pressed the call button once they left the alley and headed back to the truck. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I heard gunshots, so I went down to investigate. I think I just saw two dead bodies on the corner of Yellowstone Boulevard and 62 Road, in the trees.”

“We’ll send some control your way. What is your name sir?”

“No name. I’m just someone who doesn’t want to get involved.” Peter then snapped the phone in half.

Wade opened up the trunk and they changed out of their bloodied (Wade) and torn (Peter) clothes into black sweaters. Wade drove top speed back towards their part of the city.

“Why do you still have that gun?”

“For situations like this.” Wade moved one of his hands off the steering wheel and Peter squeezed his hand in reciprocation. The ride was uncharacteristically silent.

-

Wade pulled into the hospital. Peter wanted nothing but to go home. “It’s my scheduled time for chemo. You want me to stick around now, don’t you?” It was obvious that Wade didn’t want to go either.

“Of course.”

Wade sat in the same chair that Peter had found him in. Peter had never gotten a good look at the chair before. Wade’s was withered down and a faded shade of red. The one that Peter had sat in was the same, albeit blue.

A nurse with an afro and large diamond earrings approached them as soon as Wade sat down. She had a pair of round rose-tinted sunglasses, similar to the ones that Blind Al wore, hooked to the pocket of her scrubs. She seemed too flashy for a hospital. Peter dully wondered if she was going against the hospital’s dress code. “Welcome Mr. Wade,” she greeted. She began to hook Wade up to the various needles, a drip, and a machine.

There was something familiar about her voice to Peter. “Excuse me, have we met before?” Peter asked. “You seem very familiar.”

“I’m Nurse Heidi König. You must be Peter Parker, the relative of May Parker. We have spoken on the phone before.” They shook hands. Both of their hands were cold.

“Your name sounds German,” Wade piped in. “But you don’t exactly look German.”

“My father was black and my mother was Puerto Rican, but I was adopted by a German.” She took Wade’s arm and helped him stand to his feet without the tubes tangling up. Peter stood and took his other arm. They had just sat down and they were heading somewhere else already. “Your aunt has just woken up, Mr. Peter. You and Mr. Wade can visit her now.”

Peter leaned more against Wade than Wade did against Peter as they walked down the hallway. Heidi stopped in front of an unlabeled door. She let the two men walk into the darkened room first before she closed the door behind them. Heidi turned the light on. They were in a supply closet. A light bulb hung above them and swung slightly.

“I am very disappointed in the both of you,” she said, demeanor creepily calm. “In the span of merely three days my workers Jakob Schmidt, Margarete Weiß – otherwise known as Meta Weiss – and Colman Maguire have suddenly died. And Augusten Beer is in critical condition and risking paralysis.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to them if they hadn’t threatened us first!” Peter was slightly confused on Colman Maguire. Was Wade involved in his death or not?

Heidi had no reaction to Wade’s outburst. She simply pulled out a red cellphone and slowly dialed a number. She pressed the speakerphone option and held the phone in the middle all of them.

“Need something Heidi?” Peter recognized Blind Al’s voice over the phone.

“Mr. Wade and Peter are here with me,” Heidi simply said.

“Oh, those knuckleheads are with you? I am upset and a little proud that you two have doublehandedly managed to raise so much hell over a bagful of money and ten pounds of coke.” Al laughed over the phone. “Now, you two shouldn’t be rewarded for such bad behavior, but we can’t leave the Alpine Shepard Boy’s Pizza Palace empty. It’s a ‘buy one, get one free’ deal here. You two get a supply plant and a place to launder money. How about it?”

“We’ll take it,” Wade said. He sounded too happy about accepting the deal.

“Good. Until next time boys.” Heidi hung up the phone. She moved toward the door.

“Wait, wait,” Peter said. “What is this? Who are you exactly?”

“It is five o’clock and I am the head of not only the drug business, but the empire business. Now it is five-oh-one and I am Heidi König, just another oncology nurse.” She dropped a piece of paper on the floor before she walked away. Peter had never been so confused in his life.

Peter picked up the piece of paper. It read: _Alejandro López (011 + 57 + 8 + xxx + xxxx) – Granada, Meta Department, Orinoquía Region, Colombia - $1,500/kilo_. Wade was ever so gleeful as he read over the paper. “Isn’t this great, Petey? We get to control everything now!” He kissed Peter again. Peter found himself grabbing Wade’s shoulders and moving his lips against Wade’s. He not only craved familiarity, but he craved tangible familiarity. It was hopefully somewhere in between Wade’s lips. Wade had the widest grin when he leaned back. “Let me get back to the sitting room so you can finally visit that aunt of yours.”

Peter ended up not visiting his aunt.

-

Peter was leaning against the kitchen counter in his underwear with a glass of hot tea in between his arms when the phone rang. Peter hesitated, hand hovering above the receiver. What if it was more bad news? What if Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and Wade had all been discovered dead in one night? Peter wouldn’t know how to cope with himself. He probably wouldn’t even try.

“Hey Peter,” Blind Al greeted. “Sorry if I woke you up or anything.”

“No, no. I couldn’t sleep anyway. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask if you want out yet. I knew that something was off about Wade the day that I met him, but you seem like a sweet, smart kid. I don’t understand how you and Wade are friends, but whatever. I am damn sure that you didn’t harm any of those people. 100-percent positive that Wade did it. So, do you want out? Later’s better than never.”

“Al, I’m not sure…”

“Oh, and there’s something off about Heidi too. She may seem sweet, helping people with cancer and all, but she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Most dangerous woman I know.”

Peter thought about the pros and cons. Gwen Stacy and May came to his mind. The only con was his wellbeing, and he would always put himself over them.

“I still have people to help. Until then, I’m not quitting.” Peter hung up. He then dialed a number that he knew by heart. “Mrs. Stacy, are you there?”

“Peter, hi.” They both waited in silence for a moment. “It’s just Helen, please.”

“I’m sorry. I just called to say…” Peter closed his eyes for a moment. “I just called to say that I wanted to pay for all of Gwen’s funeral expenses to relieve the grief some.”

“Peter, no, you don’t have to do that. And I didn’t know that you had that type of money in the first place.”

“Well, a relative of mine had just died recently and left behind quite an inheritance for us. I would love to spend the money for Gwen. Aunt May too.”

“Peter, thank you so much. This means a lot for all of us.”

“It’s my pleasure. Goodnight Helen. Sorry for calling so late.” He hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.

Gwen kept on flashing through Peter’s head: from her soft smile, loving gaze, and blonde locks to the way that she had yelled at him before she left to the photograph of her lifeless body floating in the pool.

Peter needed to find a way to distract himself. He took a sip of his tea. It had gone cold. Peter leaned against the counter and thought to himself. His hand reached for the front of his boxers, a well-explored area. He palmed himself for a moment, tried to let himself succumb into the heat of the moment, but his first time with Gwen came to mind.

Peter huffed in annoyance. Not only was he in desperate need of a distraction away from Gwen, but he had went and made himself sexually frustrated in the process. He looked at the telephone. The number was on speed dial. All he had to do was press “five” and all of his problems would be solved.

Peter found his hand acting on its own. He pressed the middle digit and waited. He grew more and more tense each time the phone rang.

“Petey, why are you calling so late? The neighborhood is trying to sleep you know.”

“Could you come over?”

“Why? Did something happen? You haven’t called me this late since the glory days.”

“I just want you come over so…” Peter let in a slow breath. He shuddered. He hadn’t shuddered since the glory days. “Let’s just pretend not be exes, just for one night. Please?”

Wade gasped over the line. “Are you calling for the reason I think you’re calling? Because if you’re calling for that reason, I will be over there faster than you can say ‘Bea Arthur is the best on _The Golden Girls_.’”

Peter breathily chuckled. “Yes, I’m calling for that reason.”

“Screw the neighborhood. We’re about to wake everybody up, baby boy.”


	6. Intense Chemistry

_Peter was nervous about starting advanced placement chemistry. He personally thought that he was not qualified to be accepted in any AP classes, but here he was, textbook in front of him, legs crossed, hands folded together, waiting for the teacher to arrive._

_A man with unruly white hair and a wild beard to match marched into the classroom right when the bell rung. Another much younger man followed after him. They both wore cream-colored jackets and brown loafers. When they faced the front of the classroom, Peter saw that they both wore the same type of golden rimmed glasses._

_“Good morning students,” the older man said. He coughed. His voice had a velvety texture to it. Peter could go to sleep to the sound of it, but it was first period, he had to get his act together. The teacher then turned to the chalkboard and wrote his name across it. “I am Mr. Nicholas Robert Grey and this is my student teacher, also son-in-law, Mr. John Bones.” John Bones did a small bow at the mention of his name._

_Peter felt his inner nerd become ecstatic. He really was interested in science as a whole and did feel honored that he was chosen for the advanced chemistry class. He hoped that he was going to manage to stay in the class though. Uncle Ben had told him now to worry about it, but he still worried about it. He was a worrier by nature._

_“Before we begin, I will like to say,” Mr. Grey turned on a burner and took out two graduated cylinders, “Opposites generally create intense chemistry. There are more chances of fireworks among different minds than similar ones.” He chuckled to himself. He had the chuckle of joy itself. Peter had just found the Old Saint Nicholas of chemistry. “I should nip the sentimental talk in the bud. We’re supposed to be reviewing molecules, elements, and chemical analysis today. Please take out your textbooks and turn to the third page.”_

-

Wade was glad that he wasn’t taking the nightshift. He gaily skipped throughout 7-Eleven, picking up all the necessary items that came with a midnight booty call: condoms (ooh, they came in different colors now), lubricant, a hotdog for the trip to Forest Hills (it was nearly a twenty minute walk and the middle of the night, Wade was bound to get hungry at some point of time), and a packet of cigarettes – Camel Wides Menthol, he was feeling mighty green that evening.

Wade’s co-worker was working the register. Her tired eyes widened as he placed his items on the counter. He internally sighed. She was a nosy person, almost as nosy as him. And he didn’t feel like answering questions, he had to hurry to Peter’s ASAP.

She smirked as she rung the items up. “So, Wade, looks like you’re having fun tonight. Didn’t know that you had a girlfriend.”

“I don’t.” Wade snatched the bag from her and bit into his hotdog. “I’m just getting lucky tonight, and that’s all you need to know.” He felt his confidence take a swan dive off of the balcony once he stepped foot out of the convenience store. He certainly hoped that he was going to get lucky tonight. He had been majorly unlucky in the sex department as of late.

The doctor’s words echoed in his mind: _“Now, most men still manage to have normal erections during chemotherapy, but a few do develop problems. Erections and sexual desire often decrease right after getting chemo, but they do return in a week or so, so there isn’t too much need to worry.”_

Wade had decided to test the theory out after his first batch of chemo. He swore that he had been stroking himself for an hour straight and nothing had come of it. He hadn’t tested himself since then on account of he was focused on other things, but he hoped that the symptoms had worn off just for that night. Wade wasn’t sure. He had just been given a fresh batch of chemo the previous day.

Wade dishearteningly bit into his hotdog before he threw it on the grass. He hadn’t been hungry all day.

Wade pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number that Heidi had given him. He needed to take care of business before he took care of his own business.

 _“¿Qué más?”_ The voice on the phone was so smooth and silky, Wade thought that he had found the Colombian Morgan Freeman.

“Nothing! It’s Wade here. Heidi gave me your number. I hope that that explains everything.”

“Heidi from Forest Hills, New York?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“She told me that you killed Meta.”

“Well, push came to shove and yeah, Meta’s dead, but I’m her replacement you can say. So I’m here to discuss business. Lay it on me. I heard that it’s one-point-five per kilo. I’ll be taking two.”

“Only two kilos? That’s not how you do business. You buy in bulk! It saves time on the both of us.”

“I only have $1,941.16 on deck though.”

“Rookie. Buy four kilos for now, that’s about eight pounds, and I’ll take a loan out of Heidi’s account. When you start making real money then you will buy more kilos.”

“I’m already making real money. Just wait on it.” Wade then hung up the phone.

-

Peter was a nervous wreck when he heard a knock on the door. He couldn’t believe that he had really just called Wade. His mind and heart were playing a great game of tug-of-war, but his body was electric. He was physically ready for Wade, now it was time to become mentally prepared.

He let out a small breath as he turned the doorknob. Peter breathlessly smiled. Wade was standing there in one of the thrift shop leather jackets and a plastic bag. It reminded him of the optimum days in between the two of them.

Before Peter could even say anything, Wade dropped the bag at the doorstep, held him to his chest, and kissed him breathless. Wade ran his fingers threw Peter’s hair and closed the door with the heel of his boot. Wade’s hands released a dash of chill throughout Peter’s body, but his lips were warm.

Wade’s hands moved to Peter’s back. His fingers traced along his muscles momentarily before he gripped the back of his thighs and picked him up. Peter wrapped his legs around Wade’s waist and smiled into the kiss. “I missed doing this so much,” Wade mumbled. He moved Peter to the top of the kitchen counter and nuzzled his nose against his neck. Peter shuddered and found his hands moving on their own accord across Wade’s broad shoulders. He missed it too.

Peter felt his back hit something. A buzzing noise sounded. Wade chose to ignore it. He pressed his lips down Peter’s neck.

“You have one message. Friday, December 23, 9:24 A.M.” The buzz sounded again. “Hey Peter, it’s Gwen. We haven’t been on a date in, what, two weeks now? I really miss you. Please call me back as soon as you can.” Peter froze. His hands gripped the back of Wade’s shirt. Wade, continuously kissing him, carried Peter away from the kitchen and into his bedroom.

Wade sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Peter into his lap. He traced his hand over the crotch of Peter’s boxer shorts before he pulled his length out of the slit. Peter let out a shuddery breath upon contact. Heat rose up in the pit of his stomach. His heart was beginning to race. This was the distraction that he was looking for.

Except, he wasn’t distracted.

He felt good. Wade’s fingers were still as skillful as ever, pulling up and down at the shaft of Peter’s cock before moving up and rubbing the outline of the head and then glossing around the tip.

Wade was warm, his hand was warmer, it was moving at an incredible pace, but Peter’s mind decided to race. It decided to fill in long lost holes. Things started to add up at the wrong moment.

Peter leaned against Wade and squeezed his eyes shut. He let his lips part and moaned. He hadn’t let out a classic moan in so long. He bit his lip and thrust into Wade’s hand. Wade muttered something, but Peter couldn’t make it out. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be selfish for just one moment. He had been selfless for way too long. It was time for some self-indulgency.

Peter’s main goal was completed: he forgot about Gwen, even with the answering message going off. His mind shifted on Wade though. For some godforsaken reason, he thought back to their breakup. Wade had grown a deadly cough around graduation. They assumed it was pneumonia. Wade scheduled an appointment afterward. Wade grew more distant. He and Peter broke up. The one night in the bathtub, Wade had said that he found out about his cancer diagnosis after graduation. Wade had also mentioned that he was going to stop chemotherapy until he saw Peter.

As Wade’s ministrations increased in speed, Peter felt tears prick his eyes. He needed to maintain his composure. He was in the middle of getting his dick jacked off for goodness sakes. Sex had no room for the self-pitiful.

Peter felt Wade’s unoccupied hand trail up his arm, his neck, and to his cheek. Wade pushed Peter’s head upwards. Peter tried to turn his head away. He couldn’t let Wade know that he was crying over something that happened months ago.

Wade kissed Peter again, but he paused. He stopped his movements and studied Peter’s face. There were silent tears running down his cheeks. “Oh shit, did I hurt you baby boy?”

“No, no, you’re perfectly fine. I’m just overthinking things again.” Peter hurriedly wiped his tears away. He pulled Wade’s hand into his. “Keep going please.”

Wade kissed Peter again, chastely, and closed the opening of his boxer shorts. He wrapped his arms around Peter and lied down on the bed. “Have you ever sat down and just have a good cry about what happened, not just with Gwen, but everything?” Peter shook his head.

“Everything’s been happening so fast. I don’t even feel sad anymore, I just feel… numb.” He moved to wipe his tears away again. He had enough spirit to feel ashamed for stopping a potentially very fulfilling night by digging up old memories. He was destined to stay in the role of a sad boy stuck in Forest Hills.

“You can cry, sob, and blow your nose into my shirt all that you want to right now. We have all day tomorrow to make some magic happen.” Wade kissed Peter’s forehead. “I don’t think that I could get it up anyway,” he muttered.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that cancer has fucked me over so much that I can’t fuck anything. Boners are rare in Wadesville.” Peter dryly chuckled. Some more tears escaped his eyes, but he didn’t curl up into the fetal position and bawl like a baby. He had let out his initial anguish when he had received the phone call about Gwen’s death. He was going to miss her terribly, but he had come to terms with the fact that Gwen Stacy was gone.

He was crying over Wade now. He was sad and the slightest bit terrified over Wade’s actions over the past few weeks. Wade had almost been nonchalant over the fact that he had murdered two people (or possibly three, the details over the drug dealer’s death were still foggy to Peter). Peter didn’t like the idea, but he felt like he was really grieving over the death of the Wade that he used to know.

-

Wade woke up with a sudden pressure in his stomach. He sat up slightly and looked around. Peter had turned around in his sleep and they shifted into a spooning position. Wade nearly cried in joy when he realized what the pressure was. He hadn’t had a morning wood in months.

Wade smirked and rubbed his hands up across Peter’s chest. Now that emotions had been put into the air the previous night, they could really get down and boogie. Wade moved to Peter’s ear. “Wake up baby boy,” he whispered. Peter hummed in response. “I got a surprise for the both of us.”

Peter moved slightly. He could feel Wade pressing into his backside. He moved back. The move was almost automatic. His half-awake mind was almost in the ebb and flow of the old days. Wade tightened his grip around Peter’s waist and kissed the back of his neck. He grinded against Peter and sighed. Pressure was building and building in a way and with the person that Wade had yearned after for so long.

He felt heat begin to move and shift upwards. It reminded Wade of their first time, when Peter had snuck out around midnight on his birthday and they ended up humping like rabbits on the apartment’s rooftop. Wade squeezed Peter harder at the memory. Peter pushed back against him. Things were familiar once more.

Wade chuckled and turned Peter over slightly so he could kiss him properly. There was something intoxicating about Peter’s lips. After their first kiss, Wade kissed him at every given opportunity. Wade moved from the bottom lip to the upper lip and sighed. “Thanks for opening up the flood gates to Wadesville.” Peter laughed. “No, I’m serious. I haven’t had an orgasm in months. Thank you.”

Peter let Wade kiss him again. “You’re welcome. If you hurry and take a shower now, I’ll make some pancakes. I just bought some mix the other day.”

“Shame on you for buying mix and not making it from scratch, but I’ll love to share some pancakes with you.” After lingering some, they both got out of bed to start the day.

Peter threw on a pair of pants and a sweater before he entered the kitchen. He took out the box of dried pancake batter and set it next to the answering machine. Peter paused. The light was still on, signaling that he still had a message. He pressed the button.

“You have one message. Friday, December 23, 9:24 A.M.” Buzz. “Hey Peter, it’s Gwen. We haven’t been on a date in, what, two weeks now? I really miss you. Please call me back as soon as you can.”

Peter sighed. Gwen’s voice had always been comforting to him. From the night she had discovered him crying in the shade of the movie theater to the night that he had announced that his uncle was missing and his aunt was gravely ill.

He pressed the button again. And again. And again. He must have listened to the message at least fourteen times before Wade came in and put his hand over Peter’s. Peter looked up at Wade. Wade was fixing his mouth to say something, but it looked like he was actually considering what to say before he said it. “Let’s go to Denny’s, I think they’re having a special.”

-

Peter wore Wade’s jacket to the restaurant. It felt interesting to go on a date with Wade. They held hands underneath the table and ordered two Grand Slams. “Pancakes always bring me out of the dumps,” Wade said.

“No, I think you mean to say that pancakes give you the dumps. Remember that one time when you thought that you could beat the pancake eating record? Now we’re banned from all IHOPs in New York City.”

“You know what, 66 pancakes in two hours doesn’t seem like a lot until you try it. And screw IHOP. I’m in love with Denny’s now.”

“Table for three boys?” Peter and Wade looked up. Blind Al was standing over their table.

“Go away Al. I can’t enjoy myself with you casting a shadow over me.”

“Scoot over.” Wade huffed and moved to Peter’s side of the booth. He reconnected their hands when he sat down. The waitress returned and took Al’s order. “You might be wondering what brings me here.”

“No, I was wondering what’s going to make you leave,” Wade muttered.

“Stop the smart remarks for two seconds Wade. Anyways, I’m just the messenger, as always. Heidi K. just wanted me to remind you that you owe her $6,000. You better pay it back too, or else there will be dire consequences.”

“Really? I’m not scared of her. The only thing I’m afraid of is Denny’s banning me just like IHOP. I don’t think that I’m gonna be able to control myself once they bring the pancakes out.”

“Hey, don’t ever underestimate anyone. From the naked eye it looks like two boys taking their grandma out for breakfast. Yet in reality,” Al shook her head and chuckled, “there’s so much more to all of us.”

-

Peter felt like he and Wade could at least make an effort to make the house in Malta more homely. Some furniture and paint couldn’t do it any harm.

Wade had bought Winnie-the-Pooh Ziploc bags for packaging this round. “Don’t get mad. Our Coca Negra is known for being sold in cartoonish bags, so I was forced to buy this. At least it isn’t Hello Kitty, right?” Peter sighed. “Anyway, the coke’s 96-percent pure. That’s 6 more percentages higher than the last batch. Guess what the estimated value is.” He was moving in closer to Peter. Peter assumed that the price was right.

“Just tell me, Wade.”

“$1,360,776, so we’re both getting $680,388! That’s amazing. You’re amazing.” He made a showcase of kissing Peter’s forehead. “The value went up to $50, I’m sure of it. Make sure you don’t get up to 100-percent, or else we’ll end up killing people on the first snort. I don’t think any human being can handle pure potency. But screw it, we can try if you want to. You know the things a person would do for just a gram of pure snow?”

“Nothing too bad I hope.” Peter opened up the box of bags. “Can you get started with the packaging? I need to use the bathroom really quick.” Wade nodded and let him go.

“I’ll call Al to get everything dealt. I can’t believe she’s making us run things by her now.”

Peter looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed a haircut soon. Peter controlled his breathing. He was calm. His mind was calm. His heart was calm. His body was calm. He added up the expenses in his mind: Gwen’s funeral was going to be $7,500, Aunt May’s chemotherapy cost $20,000, the medication cost $5,000, the rent cost $1,350, water was $75, electric was $150, gas was $50, making a grand total of $34,175.

Peter had not spent a dime of his previous earnings. That, plus the estimated value of what he was about to earn, equaled about $682,429.16 in total earnings. He was more than prepared to pay for everything. He didn’t know what he was going to do with the extra money.

Wade knocked on the door. “Did you fall in the toilet snookums?” Peter opened the door and let him in. “You aren’t even using the bathroom? What’s up?”

Peter looked at Wade, really looked at Wade, underneath the blue light of the bathroom. Their situation was laughable and dramatic to the outside view, but it was not to be taken lightly. Wade had managed to grow a full-on beard. It made him look older and more mature, but he had grown even more carefree as the days went by. Peter took Wade’s shoulders and slowly pressed their lips together. Peter had always preferred his kisses slow and thoughtful, but Wade only gave him sensual and teasing touches.

Wade smiled when they parted. “You know what, I haven’t felt this alive in such a long time.” He laughed, but Peter knew.


	7. Pullin' Up and Comin' Down

_Heidi König, with her large diamond earrings and round rose-tinted sunglasses, marched her entourage – two sharply dressed Puerto Rican women – into the Magic City Hotel. She took off her sunglasses and softly smiled at the woman at the front desk._

_“Good evening and Happy New Year, and welcome to the Magic City Hotel. Do you have a room booked?” Heidi shook her head._

_“No. I am Heidi König, and these are my cousins Genesis Valentina and Mariella Rodriguez, we came all the way from San Juan for a little family get together for New Years, but one of cousins are missing – Peter Parker. I heard that he has a room here?”_

_“You’re from San Juan? So am I,” the receptionist frowned. “Peter Parker does have a room here, but I could’ve sworn he was white, not Puerto Rican.”_

_“I don’t look Puerto Rican either, but here I am,” Heidi chuckled. The receptionist pulled out a book and looked over the names. As she did so, another man arrived in the hotel, carrying a large, black truck behind him. The receptionist looked up in concern, but Heidi shrugged it off. “That’s my brother, Heinz.”_

_“Oh okay. Very German names you two have.” She smiled at all of the loiterers._

_“Anyways, even if Cousin Peter doesn’t want to join on the festivities, we just want to drop off his stuff that he left from his last stay at San Juan. He’s been calling practically every week for his things back.”_

_“Oh of course, I understand. He’s staying on the third floor, fourth room.” Heidi thanked the receptionist and walked with her crew to the elevator._

.

Wade laughed to himself as he quietly broke into Peter’s home. He crept to Peter’s bedroom, carefully closed the door behind him, and then jumped on Peter’s bed. “Wake up, wake up! I got a surprise for you!”

Peter turned on the lamp by his bedside and scowled up at Wade. “What? What is it? What’s your 3:00 A.M. surprise?” Wade flung something in his face. Peter than pulled on his glasses from the tableside and squinted down at the papers. They were two airplane tickets: FOREST HILLS AIRPORT TO MIAMI INTERATIONAL AIRPORT – FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1994 – 9:30 A.M.

Peter looked up between the tickets and Wade. Wade’s smile was widening by the second. Peter set the tickets down and sighed. It looked like Wade wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. “Thanks Wade. I really need a vacation.”

“We all need a damn vacation. We really deserve it too. It’s going to look suspicious if we don’t spend some of this money we’re racking up.”

“One question though.”

“What is it?”

“Are you going to hurt anyone on this vacation?” Wade paused and Peter could practically see the anger flowing through his mind. Wade just stood up and left though. Peter was expecting a blow up, but he guessed that Wade was thinking the same thing he was: it was too early in the morning and they both had a weekend in Miami together to enjoy themselves. Nothing was going to ruin their fun together.

.

Peter was shoving the last of his clothes into his suitcase when the phone rang. He checked the clock on the oven before answering it. He had about twenty minutes until Wade was going to pick him up to go to the airport.

“Hello?”

“Hello Peter. It’s Heidi. Mr. Wade’s phone number seems to be disconnected, so I would like for you to inform him that I have not received any payments for the $13.5K that he has loaned from me.”

“Oh really? He didn’t tell me that he had asked you for money.”

“He didn’t. He just borrowed it to pay for his coca. Now, I do not give money out from the goodness of my heart and I expect a full payment by Sunday, January 1, 11:59 P.M. or else there will be consequences.”

Peter leaned against the kitchen counter. Wade should have more than enough to pay her back, unless he was going to spend an excessive amount on their vacation. Speaking of which, “Oh, we’re going to Miami for the weekend, so we’ll pay you when we get back.”

“Oh, Miami? Where are you staying?”

“The Magic City Hotel.”

“I’ve been to Miami before, and Magic City is nice. Enjoy your vacation. Take care.” She then hung up the phone.

.

When Wade and Peter finally arrived at the hotel, Wade insisted on walking along the poolside even though they were both extremely tired. Peter leaned against him as they made their third lap around the pool. The lights underneath the water’s surface gave the entire pool an ethereal glow and there were still a few people simply floating around.

“Oh, Heidi called me this morning. She said that she wants the money she loaned you back by New Year’s.” Peter moved himself off of Wade’s shoulder and Wade gave a little whine of protest. “Blind Al also said that she’s the most dangerous woman she knows. After you pay her money back, we should really stop working with her. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or me.”

“Al’s probably bluffing to trick me into being responsible. I’ll pay her, don’t worry. Worrying gives you gray hair.” Wade then reached down in the pool water and splashed Peter.

.

Wade made room for Peter on the bed. “You’re back fast. How far away is Walgreens?”

Peter set down two plastic bags on the bed before he sat down next to Wade. “If you’d gone with me then you would know.”

“Don’t be like that. Got everything?” Peter nodded and pulled out the bags’ contents: Wade’s medication, more condoms, and a folder of the developed photos from over their vacation. Wade reached over the medicine to the folder and dumped the pictures out of the bed. He could hear Peter mutter something else, probably about him not respecting the photographs. “I saved you some pancakes.” Wade pointed over to the corner of the bed as he picked up a picture. Peter was surprised that Wade had saved him two whole pancakes. He was expecting just one.

“Oh I really like this picture. The one you took at the aquarium.” Peter bit into a pancake and looked over at the photo. It was a picture of Wade facing a large reef tank, his back turned to the camera. Peter had thought of it as the perfect photo opportunity. The lighting was great, the tank was giving off the best colors, and Wade had given the perfect silhouette for the shot.

“Yeah, so do I.” Peter swallowed down the rest of his pancake. He then nearly spat it back out. “What is this?” Wade laughed. The sound of mischievous. Peter hated it when he was mischievous. “Not funny Wade. When did you take this picture?” He picked up the photograph he was referring to. It was slightly blurry but it was clearly a photo of Wade kissing Peter’s neck on who knows what night.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t notice the flash going off. Am I really that good that you forget your surroundings? You usually have this creepy thing where you sense when something bad is going to happen before it does.” Peter was tempted to rip the photograph up and throw its remains at Wade’s smug face.

“Shut up,” Peter muttered.

“Oh, the fireworks are in an hour or so, and then our flight back home is right after. I already packed the bags too like you asked. See how responsible I am?” Peter shook his head. “What? I am extremely responsible. Usually I would’ve just thrown everything in one suitcase five minutes before the flight but I planned ahead like you told me too. Don’t I get some appreciation for that?” Peter shook his head again. “Oh, c’mon. Stop being a stick in Shit’s Creek for once and lighten up.”

“I refuse to lighten up.”

“Hopefully these fireworks will be enough light for you. Ha, puns! I hate them.”

.

The firework show was spectacular. Miami had outdone New York City, Peter decided. His hand automatically reached for the camera. He sighed. Now was the worst time for him to suffer the fruits of his forgetfulness. “Wade, I’ll be right back, I have to put film in the camera.”

“Hurry up, it’s almost midnight.” Wade tried to wink, but both of his eyes closed.

Peter raced to the elevator and to his room as quickly as he could and nearly tore everything apart looking for the film he bought. He then hurried back to the elevator and saw that there were people – three women, one man, and a large trunk – inside this round. He pressed the button for the roof and leaned against the wall near the doors.

A chill traveled up his spine. The elevator couldn’t have been moving at a slower pace and the other passengers were beginning to creep him out. They were all wearing sunglasses and eerily silent. Peter, growing antsy, began to fiddle with his camera.

The elevator doors opened, but it was a floor below the roof. It must have been the other passengers’ stop. Peter stood off to the side to give them room to get off. Only one of them moved, the man. He was holding something, but before Peter could figure out what it was the man hit him in the back of the head with it. Peter collapsed to the floor and saw his camera fall out of the elevator. One of the girls picked it up before the doors closed again.

Peter felt himself losing consciousness fast. He tried to move his legs, but his body was not responding. The man lifted him up, one of the girls opened the trunk, and he was shoved inside.

.

Wade frowned. It was a few minutes past midnight. Peter was taking way too long to get film for the camera. He took one last look at the fireworks before he raced down to the elevator. He checked all around the room, but there was no sign of Peter. Confused, Wade went down to the lobby.

There were four people wearing sunglasses walking through the lobby, one of them was dragging a large trunk behind them. Wade turned away from them and walked to the lady at the front desk.

“How may I help you sir?” She asked.

“Well, first, do you know who those guys are?” Wade pointed the people in the sunglasses. They were heading out of the hotel. “They look important.”

“Oh, they are Peter Parker’s relatives I believe. They came all the way from San Juan for the new year.”

Wade frowned. “Peter’s relatives from San Juan? As in Puerto Rico?” The woman nodded. “No, Peter’s from New York and I’m pretty sure that he checks off ‘non-Hispanic white’ on his test sheets unless I’ve been wrong this entire time and his actual parents are from Puerto Rico. That would be interesting though.” Wade paused for a moment. “Anyway, I’m looking for Peter actually. Did you see him come by this way?”

“I’m sorry, I have not. But I will call your room when I see him.”

“Thanks.” Wade turned to walk away, but then he went back to the desk. “Hey, could you tell me where the nearest car rental place is?”

“Of course.” She took out a slip of paper and wrote down an address.

Wade dug in his pocket and slammed a fifty dollar bill on the desk before he took the address. “Thanks for the help too.” He then raced back to his room before he could see the receptionist’s reaction.

Wade grabbed the four things he needed: his jacket, his own pair of sunglasses, money, and a gun and then he was off. Wade didn’t know what those people wanted with Peter, but he was sure going to put an end to it.


	8. Bitch Better Have My Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be the first to admit that the last two chapters were lame, but the finale will hopefully make up for everything. <3

_Blind Al liked to think that losing her sight helped her gain a sixth sense for chaos. She didn’t have to see to know when shit was hitting the fan. Murder always produced the same sounds. This one was interesting though. The young man would not stop shooting and screaming. He was obviously high up on something too strong for him to handle. Al sighed and made her way to the scene. It was going to be a hell of a mess to clean up, but she appreciated a challenge every once in a while._

_The shooting stopped when she approached. “Are you done?” There was a clatter to her right. Al shook her head. “Don’t be an idiot. There are prints all over that gun. Come with me.”_

_“You’re the guy?” The man almost sounded reasonable now that he was speaking in a normal voice, but Al could hear how labored his breathing was. He was still not in a stable state._

_“Yes, I’m the guy. You’re about to be the guy who’s beyond Scared Straight if you don’t listen to me.” She turned around, facing the exit of the alleyway. She wasn’t sure where the body was, but if she tripped over it there were going to be heavy repercussions. “You’re Wade, right?”_

_“And you’re Blind Al?”_

_“That’s right. Let’s go. This isn’t Canada anymore. NYC is real business.”_

.

The only car left at the car rental was a pink Mercedes-Benz C-Class, but Wade took it. He didn’t take a moment to laugh at the irony of how he was chasing after people who were presumably German inside of a German car.

As he was speeding southward, he called Blind Al.

“What do you want?”

“Yeah, hello, it’s nice to talk to you too. Do you have any idea where Heidi is?”

“I know that she went to Miami a few days ago. She mentioned that she was visiting her brother, Heinz. She said that they’re going to Miami, San Juan, and then Berlin. I don’t know why though, so don’t ask.”

“That’s all I needed.”

.

Peter was still surrounded by darkness when he awoke. He tried to move around, but he found that his arms and legs were tied. He was still inside of the trunk and he had no clue where his captors were. As if to answer his question, the trunk opened up. Heidi leaned over it, pulled out her phone, and began to dial a number. She put it on speakerphone for Peter to listen.

“Hello Wade. Al must have told you where I am by now.”

“I was going to give you your fucking money. You didn’t have to go and kidnap Peter for, what, $6K? Is your little empire not doing so well? I thought that you’d be worth millions from the way you set yourself up.”

“Let me remind you that I am standing in front of Peter right now.” Peter could only blame himself at that moment. He had told Heidi that he and Wade were taking a trip to the Magic City. He knew that in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t have mattered though. She would have found them inevitably, whether it was in Florida or New York.

“And when I get there, there better not even be a scratch on him.”

“That depends on who can make it across the Atlantic first.” Heidi then hung up the phone. Peter wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew that Wade was going after him the moment he found out that Peter was missing, but a rescue seemed farfetched and escaping looked like it was out of the question.

The trunk closed over his head again. Uncle Ben came to mind. Had he returned home in Peter’s absence? Had he been kidnapped over some broken deal like Peter had? Peter leaned his head against the trunk and felt himself get picked up and moved.

.

A small part of Wade’s mind knew that his vacation was going to take a turn for the worse. He could never get good things. He couldn’t even comprehend how his day turned from a New Year’s celebration with Peter to him racing to the nearest port to catch a boat to San Juan before the sun was even up.

At least Captain Yoko was a relief. The elderly Japanese woman had welcomed him on her boat and was completely willing to set sail into the unknown (the promise of the dollar might have had some influence on her decisions though). Wade was gripping the side of the boat, his knuckles white and his eyes intense. He was working his nerves up to the maximum and Yoko was noticing.

“Why exactly are you chasing this other boat down for?” His mind paused for a moment to contemplate telling her the truth or not. Wade shrugged. Yoko was cool. And she was old and easily bribed.

“Screw it. My lover’s been kidnapped and we’re in Miami, so we got to do boat chases instead of car chases.”

“Hope you find her.”

Wade laughed. An iota of anxiety was brushed off of his mind. “Yeah, I hope I find her too. So, do I have to pay extra to ensure that you won’t snitch or anything now?”

“Secret’s safe with me. Always wanted to be part of a sitcom in real life.” Wade turned away from her. He looked out at the water. It was a beautiful view, really. Morning was approaching fast and the rising reflection of the sun was giving the ocean an orange and pinkish tint. If Peter was there then he would have taken a picture. It was the golden hour or whatever it was called.

Wade sighed and tightened his grip on the side of the boat. He wasn’t feeling too golden.

.

“Is he following us?”

“Yes.”

“Head to Fiesta now.”

“Got it.”

.

Peter felt himself being moved again. He was getting a cramp in both of his legs and a headache. He was pretty sure that he had been transported to wherever on a boat. He was put down and he heard a phone dial. The trunk opened again. Peter braced himself.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. It was much too bright. It was already morning. What an interesting way to spend New Year’s – inside of a trunk and across the ocean. As his eyes adjusted, Peter looked around. He was by the ocean, on a beach, and there was a large white building to the side. Peter had no clue where he was. Florida was just one giant shoreline to him.

Heinz forced Peter out of the trunk and they all walked to the back of building.

“We are at the Fiesta Key Convent now. If you’re not here by 9:00, then you can say goodbye to Peter.” Heidi then hung up the phone. Peter couldn’t help but feel a strike of annoyance alongside fear. They were doing way too much for some money back, unless Wade had done more than just not pay them back?

Peter thought through all the possibilities in his head as he was forced up the wooden stairs of the convent. Wade had killed people who had worked under Heidi and this unpaid money deal might have been the cherry on top for him to get punished.

They went to the top of the building. The uppermost floor was small and had stained glass windows on all sides. Peter looked down at the carpet and saw various stripes of color stretch across the floor. Golden hour had passed. Daytime was approaching, and Wade had still not come.

.

It was 8:43. Wade gave a frustrated grunt as he hopped out of the boat. Yoko hadn’t even parked it properly, but he couldn’t wait. They really wanted to see him fail, but changing the destination from San Juan to Fiesta Key at the last minute was not going to stop Wade. He felt his fingers twitch as he raced across the beach, kicking up sand everywhere. He could use a hit right then.

Wade kicked the doors of the convent open. A group of surprised nuns stared at him. Wade sighed. He could explain later. He pushed past them and went upstairs. It was 8:45.

Wade checked the first floor’s hallway. There were just stained glass windows and more shocked nuns. No Peter. The second floor showed the same results: gratuitous usage of stain glass windows and fainting sisters. Why did they have to choose a convent?

It was 8:56 when Wade finally made it to the last floor. If they had pulled a fast one and left the building before Wade arrived, then he was going to get very angry. Thankfully they were there, standing in the middle of the room with Peter in between them – seemingly unharmed.

Peter’s eyes widened when he saw Wade run into the room. He had really doubted the other. He regretted now. In the end, Wade had managed to find a way to pull through.

“Guten Tag, Fräulein,” Wade greeted. The venom in his voice was nearly visible. There were two sides to every person. Wade dung into his pocket and threw a wad of cash into the air. Money flew everywhere and the dollars soaked in the colorful light from the windows. “Now give me back Peter.”

Heidi pushed Peter over to Wade and then left the room. Her goons stayed behind though and began to gather the money and count it. Wade grabbed Peter’s shoulder and hurriedly removed the ties around his arm and legs. When Peter looked at Wade, he could tell that it wasn’t over. Everything happened in a split second. He tried to grab Wade’s arm and stop him, but Wade only pushed him off, took the gun that he had stored in his back pocket, and opened fire.

Peter watched the scene unfold in horror. The woman became bloodied, mangled messes in the blink of an eye. Heinz pulled out a gun, but Wade managed to shoot him square in the chest before any real damage could be done. A stray bullet hit a window. Glass flew everywhere. Peter mechanically moved his arm to shield his face, but his mind was still at a blank.

_“Are you going to hurt anyone on this vacation?”_

If Wade hadn’t grabbed Peter by the shoulder again and pulled him back downstairs, then Peter would’ve stood frozen in place.


	9. Camel N°9

_Heidi’s phone buzzed, alerting that she had a new text message. She only glanced it over –_ “ES IST VORBEI.” _– before she dialed in another number. “Wade Wilson is a violent individual that needs to be controlled,” she said._

_“Yeah, yeah, I know that. The problem is how though. How exactly are we going to control a nineteen-year-old orphan with terminal cancer and has more access to drugs than the DEA? What I’m saying is, he has nothing to lose. Even if you add Peter to the equation, he doesn’t care. Man, I want to know what it’s like inside of his head sometimes.”_

_“I don’t. We will discuss things once I return to New York.” Heidi hung up the phone. She walked over to the awaiting boat in the harbor, stepped aboard, and made herself comfortable. “Drop me off at Long Key, Yoko.”_

_“Aye aye, captain.”_

.

Wade couldn’t even think of any acceptable excuse as to why there were gunshots going on at the top floor of a convent. So, he made a run for it instead. He ducked his face away from the incoming nuns that he and Peter pushed through. The backdoor was right in front of them. Wade could practically taste freedom at that point.

But there was a single nun blocking the exit.

Wade huffed. He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his remaining bundle of cash. “Okay, how much? I really shouldn’t be doing any more crime in this church, though.”

“I don’t want your money.” The nun handed him something from the folds of her robe. Wade quickly inspected it – because, hello, he had just murdered three people, and the bodies were still leaking warm blood above his head – and saw that it was a box of cigarettes. Black box, pink outline, Camel N°9. It was cute. He didn’t understand why though. The nun winked at him. “Everything’s under control. Al sent me.” She then walked away. Wade pocketed the cigarettes and left the building.

Wade forced himself to let go of Peter as they walked down the street to the nearest bus stop. Peter had been suspiciously silent the entire time. Not a hug, a kiss, or even a “thank you” for the entire rescue mission. Maybe Peter was in shock. There didn’t seem to be any physical damage done to him, but there might have been mental. Wade was expecting a long talk on the bus.

Wade let Peter get on the bus first. The bus was going to make stops in Islamorada before going to Key Largo, where an airport was. They had long missed their flight and Wade didn’t feel like making pre-arrangements for another one. He was allowed to be irresponsible for a moment, he had just beat all odds and saved Peter in the nick of time. He deserved a vacation on his vacation.

Peter took the window seat on the bus. Wade figured that it could do him some good to see the view. They were on a highway that drove through the Florida Keys. Too bad he didn’t have his camera.

Peter was still being quiet. Silence ate Wade up on the inside. “Should I, uh, actually call and make arrangements after all? I mean, I wasn’t going to, but it’ll probably make you happy if I did. So I might as well. I should call the airport and get some tickets and then send our luggage from the Magic City Hotel to Motel Largo. I think that’s the name of the motel in Key Largo. You know what, one time I watched this movie called _Key Largo_. It was made in like 1948 or something. It was about these people in this hotel who get held up by these other guys, I think. I don’t really remember. It came on the old movie channel a few years back and I just had it on for background noise, you know. Sometimes I ju—”

“I hate it when you ramble sometimes.”

Wade was taken aback. Because, one, when they were dating back in high school Peter said that he loved listening to Wade talk, and two, Peter decided to take the rude approach, like everything that had happened didn’t just happen. Wade pulled out his phone and started making calls. Peter just needed a moment to cool down and process everything, that’s all.

Some people got off and some people got on when the bus stopped in the Upper Matecumbe Key. Two men sat directly across from Peter and Wade. They were both wearing trench coats in seventy-degree weather, but Wade couldn’t judge them too harshly since he was wearing a jacket himself.

One of the men leaned in towards him. “We were sent by Heidi.” He lifted his coat slightly to reveal that he was strapped. Wade wasn’t intimidated though.

“Of course you were,” Wade muttered. “If she wants to talk to me so badly, she might as well take me out to dinner and to see _Dead Man Walking_. I mean, I would take Peter, but he’s not into crime drama stuff. He likes weird documentary shit about spider web silk and deadly bacteria.” What Wade said caught Peter’s attention. He was looking at the men also.

“Anyway,” the other man said, not acknowledging Wade, “she and Al have been formulating a plan for you two to make money without harming anymore of her employees. You are both going to work directly for her. There aren’t going to be any more flimsy deals or wishy-washiness from any of you two. She has just bought the Alpine Shepard Boy’s Pizza Place and replaced it with a Great Beijing restaurant. You are going to be supervised while you cook, you are going to cook under Heidi, and you are going to share the profits.”

It made Wade’s blood boil at the thought of being watched and having to share the fruits of his labor, but it was whatever for now. Wade was all for “flimsy deals” and “wishy-washiness.” It made life exciting. He would’ve preferred to die from the consequences of living the fast life than a slow, tortuous death from predestined cancer or medication.

“Fine, we’ll work for her,” he agreed. He was only agreeing for now, though. He was going to find a way to get out of the situation. He usually did one way or another, whether he liked it or not. The men nodded and turned away from him.

Wade looked at Peter again. He was resting his head against the window. Wade considered reaching out for his hand, but he stopped himself.

.

It was a miracle that the luggage made it to the motel before Peter and Wade arrived. Wade left Peter alone in the room briefly to check in with the lobby about outgoing flights to New York. The room was illuminated by the green and pink blinking lights from the neon signage just outside of the room.

Peter sat on the bed, bathed in the duet of colors, and fiddled with the cigarette packet in his hand. He wasn’t planning on smoking or abusing any other drugs ever again. The packet interested him though. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eye of a wannabe photographer. If only his camera hadn’t been stolen by Heidi’s goons.

Peter replaced the packet on the nightstand as Wade returned to the room. He stumbled slightly when he walked towards the window and looked around outside. “First off, let me say that I’m tipsy off of shitty wine right now,” he mumbled, “and everything’s safe. I don’t see anybody chasing after us or anything for once.”

“Am I safe from you though?”

Wade scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The way that you kill people. It’s so unprompted, like you’ve done it before, like you’re used to it.” Peter looked up at Wade. He watched the other’s facial expression change from confusion in the pink light to vexation under the green light. “Wade, just be honest with me, when was the first time you killed someone? I know it wasn’t the bookstore owner.”

Wade pulled out a chair from across the room and set it beside the window. He opened the window up and pulled out his own personal packet of cigarettes. Peter didn’t know how Wade could manage to look downright sinister and exhausted at the same time. “You’re overthinking things,” he muttered. He then pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. The alcohol in Wade’s system allowed him to laugh at the irony then. The guy with terminal lung cancer was smoking like it was nobody’s business. “Don’t work yourself up over nothing, Petey.”

Peter bit back a remark. Silence blanketed over the two of them for a moment. After Wade finished smoking three or so cigarettes, he walked over to the bed and climbed in next to Peter. The mattress shifted underneath Wade’s added weight and Wade threw his arms around Peter. Peter didn’t reciprocate the touch. The odor of wine and smoke were practically radiating off of Wade.

Wade kissed the side of Peter’s neck because it felt like forever since he had been able to. “Lighten up some. We’re back together finally.” He took Peter’s cheek and kissed him properly, down his neck, his jawline, his lips, but Peter only sat there like some type of rag doll. “Peter?” He tried to kiss him again, but Peter just shrugged him off. The reason to Wade’s drinking was rolling over to the far corner of the bed and wanted nothing to do with him. Wade fought the urge to leave again.

.

Peter was wrapped up in blankets, had his glasses haphazardly thrown on his face, and was flipping through channels on the small television box that the motel had provided the next morning. Wade returned with four paper bags filled with various breakfast foods from McDonald’s. Peter found that two of the bags were filled entirely with pancakes.

“McDonald’s was actually really far away and I didn’t realize it while I was driving there, but when I finally made it there I figured that I might as well order anyway. I passed by like three Burger Kings and a Wendy’s too. This morning was not good for me.” Wade pulled out his packet. Right when the lighter met the cigarette, the smoke detector went off. Wade quickly opened up the window and directly the smoke outside. “It was a nice drive though. I wouldn’t mind living by the ocean for the rest of my life. Then again, there’s more excitement in the city. I can’t picture myself retired with a martini in both hands, relaxing on the beach while my life just leaks out of body faster than that parfait that I got. I don’t even like yogurt that much, why did I get it? There was a hole in the cup and it spilled all over the front seat. The car rental guy was not happy with me.”

Peter only nodded and changed to the news channel. A story about how two dead women were found by a group of nuns was being covered. Peter was completely sure that the nun who had given them the cigarettes had something to do with removing the man’s body. He was too closely affiliated with Heidi, being her brother and all, and would have been traced back to Wade more easily than the two women would have.

“Our flight leaves in like an hour. It shouldn’t take us too long to get ready to leave though.” Wade took a container of pancakes and then tossed something in Peter’s blanketed lap. It was a cellphone (not a Hello Kitty one, thankfully). “I put the number to my new phone in there already. Just dial the pound symbol and I’ll pick up no matter what time it is.”

“Thank you, Wade,” Peter said. He couldn’t muster up the will to smile, but his words were genuine. It pained him to give Wade the cold shoulder.

“No problem. You would’ve done the same for me.” Wade then continued to bite into five pancakes at once.

.

Peter played with the box of Camel N°9’s as he walked inside of the Great Beijing in Brownsville. He had been working there for only three days, but he wasn’t sure how much he was going to take. Bae Sun, otherwise Sunny, was verbally abusive towards his workers. He stood over the workers like a dictator and barked orders and occasionally threw things at them (shoes were his favorite).

Peter and Wade were all cold and professional on their day on the job, but they didn’t even have to talk to each other to both agree that their new job blew. They spent their second day goofing off. A fly had managed to infiltrate the facility and it was Peter and Wade’s mission to make sure that it was gone. It was odd how something as silly and simple as chasing after a fly with two large flyswatters for the day managed to bring them back together.

On the third day Sunny was no longer there, but there was a security camera in the corner of the room. Wade and Peter only needed to glance at each other before Wade flipped the bird at the camera, Peter threw his working apron over top of it, and the two walked away.

“Did they really expect us to become their coke-making dogs?” Wade laughed. “They’re gonna have to try better than that.”

“I know right. Since we’re playing hooky, what do you think we should do for the day?”

“How about _Dead Man Walking_? Please?”

“Fine. Let’s go see it.” Peter’s phone rang. He raised an eyebrow as he went to answer it. He was sure that he had a new number and only Wade knew it. “Hello?”

“Peter, it’s Heidi. Could you come over to my house for dinner tonight? We have some things to discuss.”

Even though she asked, Peter felt like his presence was being forced. “Okay, fine.”

“Thank you.” Peter pressed the button to end the call. It was interesting to transition from a flip phone to a simple one with a keypad. “Sorry, it looks like I’m taken for tonight.”

“Ugh, was it Al?”

“No, Heidi.”

“Okay, so you’re really going to go have dinner with somebody who just kidnapped you and held you for ransom like two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Wow, it was about time you lived life on the edge, Petey. I’m proud. We can watch the movie tomorrow then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

.

It was Tuesday, January 10, 1995 and Peter was exhausted. He was being worked like a mule at the pizzeria. His and Wade’s skipped day did not go unnoticed. A car pulled up at Peter’s high school every day to pick him up and drop him off at the pizza place to work and Sunny had returned to watch over them alongside the video camera.

It wasn’t just work that was tiring Peter out. He had made amends with Wade, but it didn’t mean that he was okay with everything. Death and cocaine were really taking a toll on him and Wade was just a domino effect.

As Peter was picking up his things from AP chemistry, his teacher, Mr. Grey, pulled him aside. The last thing Peter needed was a lecture during first period. He was already tired and he was always late to second period anyway since it was across the school.

“Yes, Mr. Grey?”

“First off, tell me about your winter break.” His teacher had pulled him aside to talk about winter break? Ridiculous.

“I went on a vacation to Miami with my friend. It was fun.” Understatement.

“You went to Miami? I’ve never been there before. I went to Colombia, back to my roots. I haven’t visited my family in so long. It felt really good to see them again.” Mr. Grey leaned against his desk as if he had all the time in the world. “But I just wanted to ask you if you’re feeling alright. I noticed that you’ve been kind of down lately.”

“My aunt and my friend have cancer, my uncle is missing, and my boss is overbearing. There’s nothing to feel ‘up’ about at the moment for me.”

“Well, I’m a professional when it comes to chemicals and how emotions are made, but not with how to deal with them. There’s a grief counseling center in Forest Hills Hospital that you can go to.” Mr. Grey wrote the address down. Did Peter not mention that his aunt had cancer? He knew where the hospital was. “Please go there. You’ll feel much better if you do.”

“Thank you Mr. Grey.” Peter then hurried down the hallway and to second period. He only had a minute to get to class.

.

Peter spotted Heidi at the hospital. She had proved to have a caring, motherly side to her during their dinner together. Peter wasn’t one to hold grudges and he found it miraculous that they had managed to sweep the entire kidnapping situation under the rug and over food.

Peter went up to her. “Hey, do you know where the grief counseling center is?” She shook her head.

“It won’t help to go there. Come with me.” Peter followed her down the hallway. She stopped in one area and gave him a pair of scrubs. “Put these on. So, did a teacher notice that you’ve been more tired than usual lately and direct you here?”

“Yes, actually.” Peter pulled the scrubs over his own clothes and continued to follow the nurse down the hall.

“I just want you to understand that counselors are out of the question when it comes to our line of business. They have been known to leak information given to them. Plus, I might benefit you more.” Heidi led him to the chemotherapy area. “A counselor is just going to spoon-feed you sappy one-liners while I can show you a whole new world from just a nurse’s point of view.” Peter only nodded. He looked at the various people hooked up to machines. The television was off. He turned it on and put the channel on _The Simpsons_.

He and Heidi had idle conversation together about little things as she checked on different patients’ drips. Peter found the conversation relaxing. It was good to not talk about school or cocaine for once.

Heidi then led Peter up to the elderly care ward. They checked in on May. Peter felt his heart sink. He had been so caught up with himself that he hadn’t paid his aunt any visits over the past month. She was sleeping, but he still took her hand and sat with her for a while.

“I’ve been ignoring her, what’s wrong with me?”

“Don’t fret. Work should be easier for you very soon.”

Peter looked up at Heidi. “What do you mean by that?”

“We are replacing Wade and giving you a new partner.”

“Whoa, wait, why? What’s wrong with Wade?”

“There are so many things wrong with Wade. You and I both know that, but you’re just not willing to admit it.” Peter leaned back in his seat and thought about it for a moment. Wade was a questionable character, no doubt, but it seemed a bit harsh to suddenly replace him. “It would be so much easier for you to work with someone else. I believe that you will be able to produce a clean product if you worked with someone who could help you focus. Wade is a distraction to the work environment. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter admitted. “I haven’t been doing my best lately, yeah, but shouldn’t you tell Wade about him getting replaced?”

“He will know when he sees his replacement tomorrow. Trust me, without him, you’re going to do much better and earn a lot more.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter said again. He was still torn about it. Heidi handed him the black box of cigarettes before she walked out of the room. Peter must have left them at her house. As he pocketed them, he noticed that his phone screen was lit. There was an alert that read that a call had ended. Weird. Peter didn’t remember calling anyone.

.

Wade hung up his phone and leaned back in his couch cushion. So Peter was working with the enemy to replace him now? Classic. Just what Wade needed. Red flashed before his eyes as he threw his phone at the nearest object, his video game system. Peter couldn’t have picked a better moment to butt dial him.


	10. Wade Wilson Is Falling Down

_HORROR IN QUEENS – A man now identified as Wade Wilson has gone on a rampage throughout Forest Hills, Queens and Rego Park, Queens. He was last seen in his apartment in LeFrak City, Queens with an unidentified man. Warning: do not approach Wade Wilson. Call the police immediately._

.

Wade gathered his wits long enough to pick up his cellphone and call Al. She had intelligence on everything. She could help him. She picked up the phone after three long rings. “Tell me about what’s going on with Peter and Heidi,” Wade cut to the chase.

“I got intel that they went out to meet with a new supplier earlier. Proceed with caution around them. There’s some buzzes about you being replaced. Rumor has it that it’s Sunny and a little birdie told me that Peter isn’t exactly putting up a fuss over you getting replaced.”

Al not only confirmed everything, but said that Wade’s situation was worse than he thought. He angrily snapped his phone in half and threw its remains against the nearest wall. He thought that Peter and he had reconciled since the kidnapping incident, but now Peter was setting up Wade’s replacement. Wade didn’t know where Peter stood anymore. He had been acting strange since Motel Largo. He wouldn’t reciprocate any of Wade’s touches and was always awkward in their conversations.

It was as if Peter didn’t want him anymore.

Wade paced around his small living room as more and more events connected in his frenzied mind. Perhaps Peter had been plotting to get rid of him all along. What was his motive though? Did he want all of the profits to himself? Was he disgusted with the murders that Wade had committed?

While deep in his thought process, Wade bumped into the side table by the wall. The broken phone had landed on the table and knocked down a picture frame. Wade’s anger only intensified when he saw the picture. It was his family portrait. He broke the glass to the frame, removed the picture, and tore it into pieces. Looking at his parents – even if their faces were crossed out – only triggered negative emotions.

What Wade needed was a cigarette. He dug into the pair of pants that he had worn yesterday and pulled out his pack. His lighter decided not to work though. How frustrating. He lit the cigarette on the stove. Thank goodness he had a gas stove.

The telephone rang before Wade could even put the cigarette to his lips. He heaved a breath through his nose and answered it. “Hello?” There was a bite to his voice that was not needed to give telephone greetings.

“You’re late to work again! This is like your fifth time not showing up. I know it’s not because you forgot that you were switched from nightshift to daytime, you’ve been switched for about a month now. I know your secret. It’s because you’re an irresponsible, inconsiderate junkie. Don’t even bother showing up. I’ll fire you on the spot.” The phone then hung up.

All the drama with Peter had completely occupied Wade’s mind to the point where he had honestly forgotten that he had work that day. His manager was just the cherry on top to the worst day ever.

Wade spotted his work uniform on the floor of the living room. He picked up the red shirt and ripped it in half. He was going to show his boss how much of an irresponsible, inconsiderate junkie that he could be.

.

Wade just had to be fired during the most intense bout of afternoon traffic. To make it even better the weather in January was particularly warm and the Al’s SUV’s air conditioning was not working.

Fed up, Wade just left the car in the middle of the street. He could walk to 7-Eleven faster than driving there. His anger only simmered as he walked down the sidewalk. He had to pass by an elementary school on his way to the store and there was a group of schoolchildren annoyingly singing “London Bridge Is Falling Down.” He might have accidentally flashed a scowl at one of the children because a few kids screamed and ran away when he passed by the playground.

The verbal abuse continued when Wade entered the store. “Didn’t I tell you to not even bother coming? You’re fired. Keep the uniform. It’ll keep you warm at night after you get evicted from that sorry excuse of an apartment you live at.”

Wade slammed his fists down on the counter. His manager, eyes wide, took a step back from him. “Shut the fuck up.” It must have been a combination of the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that made his boss pull out a baseball bat from underneath the counter. They carried a bat since the owner preferred that firearms weren’t inside of the store.

Wade’s boss held the bat up. Wade could’ve laughed at how non-threatening he found the entire situation. “W-Wade, I don’t any trouble. J-Just back up now, or else I have to call the police on you.” Wade only had to lean over the counter and snatch the bat away.

He smashed the bat down on the telephone and then the cash register. “Call the police now,” he said as he took a nice stack of ten dollar bills from the tray. He waved to the shocked manager as he left the store, still with the bat in hand.

Wade saw just who he needed when he left 7-Eleven: dealers. He casually walked up to them while swinging the bat in one hand and the stack of cash in the other. All the drugs and booze in the world couldn’t compare to a nice rush of adrenaline to Wade, and his was only just starting to pick up.

The dealers were obviously users also. Wade wasn’t sure if they were going to drive a hard bargain or not, but he was certainly not in the mood to get pissed off again.

“What’cha selling?” He asked.

They contemptuously looked around before one of the men displayed a handful of LSD tabs. They were blue with a Hello Kitty design. “Blue Heaven,” he said.

“Give me five.”

“$25.”

“Uh, no. Are you kidding me? This shit’s barely worth $10. Be happy that I’m taking this off your hands. You probably have so much on hand right now because you haven’t been selling, am I right? A kindergartner couldn’t even get high off of this bullshit.” Wade pulled out only one of the dollar bills. “$10, five tabs.” The men didn’t take too kindly to his remarks.

The other man pulled out a knife, but Wade easily whacked his arm with the bat. The man managed to get a slash across Wade’s cheek before he took a blow to the head, along with his partner. Wade touched at his cheek. It was bleeding. Whatever. He took their entire supply of acid and the knife and went on his way. No witnesses. Good. Wade wouldn’t have really cared anyway. The adrenaline was really building up in him now.

Wade ran into even more trouble not even less than two minutes later. Today was certainly not his day. He had never been the luckiest person, but he was certainly a distress magnet that afternoon.

A gang of about five or so men was quickly approaching him. The bandana wearing headman shoved Wade. “We just saw you attack our two guys right then. Do you have a problem with us?”

“Now I do apparently.” Wade hit the man with the baseball bat also and then stabbed his side with the knife. There were people on the sidewalk now, but the gang members didn’t care. Wade quickly pocketed the bloodied knife, took the fallen man’s gun, and raced down the street.

Bullets were flying everywhere and Wade was absolutely living. He felt some bullets graze his skin and his clothes, but none did too much critical damage. He ran into a crowd of people like a madman with the group of gunmen following after him. Left and right, Wade could see bystanders get shot instead of him. Blood was flying in the street, people were screaming in terror, and Wade was absolutely living. It was like every single cell in his body was singing and he hadn’t even took any of the acid yet.

Wade managed to become lost in the crowd and then hide in an alleyway. As the members passed by, he successfully finished off the rest of them. He felt triumphant. A celebration was in order and there happened to be a Denny’s right beside the alley.

It was an amazement that the customers and staff were unaware of the fact that a mass murder had only occurred seconds ago. Wade must have had not looked too unruly then. He leaned against the counter and called out, “I want some pancakes stat! Give me a whole stack!” He pulled out a cigarette as he waited. His lighter was working, thank goodness.

A frowning waitress made her way over to him. “No smoking inside of the restaurant.” She pointed to an anti-smoking policy sign for emphasis. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave immediately.” Wade blew a puff of smoke into the air before he stubbed his cigarette into a nearby stick of butter.

“All I wanted was some damn pancakes, but I get kicked out instead.” He pulled out the gun and shot at the ceiling. One of the lights blew out and landed on top of a family’s table. Wade slammed the door so hard on the way out that the glass nearly shattered.

Wade saw it as karma laughing at him as he stepped in a pile of dog poop once he stepped out of the restaurant. He sighed and looked around. There was a military surplus store a few doors down. How convenient.

Wade threw his shoes off at the door and picked up some new combat boots. The store owner had a whacky smile on his face as he rung up Wade’s shoes. “Hey, wanna see something?” Wade shrugged. “Check this out.” He opened up a display case behind him. “Brand new rock launcher,” he said in a whisper. The owner carefully took it out and put it on the counter for Wade to see. Wade just shrugged again.

“Cool I guess.” Wade put the money on the counter next to the launcher to pay for his shoes.

“Whoa, what’s going on with you? I’m getting complete angry vibes from you. A-And is that blood?” Wade looked down. He actually did have some blood on his pants. It was probably leakage from the knife.

“I’m having a shitty day and it all started when I learned that my boyfriend wants to replace me.” Wade winced at his own words. He kept his relationship with Peter on the hush-hush. He had met way too much flack in the past for admitting that he was attracted to both sexes.

“See, this is what you get for having a boyfriend in the first place.” The owner had a smug expression on his face. “If you would’ve been normal and had a girlfriend, none of this woul—”

Wade shot the man point-blank, right in the eye.

Wade took it has a shopping opportunity. He took a new white shirt and a pair of fatigue pants alongside the new boots and put them all on. He eyed the rocket launcher and decided to take it too. He had never used a rocket launcher before. It was going to be an interesting experience.

There was a construction crew blocking Wade’s path to Great Beijing. His enraged mind was determined that there was only one way through: use the rocket launcher. It didn’t take him long to figure out the mechanisms and to set it off. A clusterfuck immediately ensued, but Wade didn’t have time to admire the chaos. He had to get to the restaurant before Peter’s shift ended.

Wade took two acid tabs before he entered the restaurant. He could feel his heartbeat flutter and his temperature raise as the hallucinogen set in. He felt his anger grow somehow as he walked around. He decided to open fire on the restaurant to cool himself down. It didn’t help though. He must have successfully shot at least four people, but he still felt so mad.

Wade ignored the scene in the front of the restaurant and moved to the back. Sunny must have heard the gunshots and was rushing out of the door when Wade tried to enter. Before Sunny could even blink, Wade plunged his knife into the man’s side. Sunny bled out easily.

Wade took another tab as he found Peter in the back, dusting some coca leaves. He was oblivious to everything that had happened out in the restaurant. It was a wonder. Maybe Peter had lived in New York for so long that he just shut out the sound of gunshots. No, that wasn’t it. Peter was smiling nervously. “Oh, hey Wade. Why are you dressed like that?”

“Let’s go.” Wade let another tab melt on his tongue as he took Peter by the arm and dragged him out of the restaurant. Sunny’s body was blocking the door and Wade had to kick him out of the way. Blood smeared across the floor and Peter gasped in horror at the sight of all of the death and destruction.

“Wade, why did you do this?” The despair in Peter’s voice was crushing, but Wade didn’t care. He forced himself to not care. Peter was the one who wanted Wade gone. Peter was the one who had plotted Wade’s demise. Peter was the reason why Wade had gone on a fucking rampage throughout the city on the first place. It was all Peter’s fault.

Peter’s fault.

Peter’s fault.

Peter’s fault.

Wade hailed a cab and then pointed the gun at the driver’s head. “Get out,” he hissed. The driver ran out of the cab upon command. Wade pushed Peter in on the passenger’s seat and then took the wheel. He began top speed out of the city, screw the traffic and the fact that he was probably too high to drive. He needed to get out of Forest Hills and to LeFrak City as soon as possible.

An effect of LSD was delusions. “Peter,” Wade’s voice came out in a sob, but he felt anything but sad. “Petey, baby boy, why’d you try to kill me?”

“What?! No, no, no. I never tried to kill you. What are you talking about, Wade?”

“I know that you were talking to Heidi about getting Sunny to replace me. You just want to get rid of me, don’t you? I’m not safe enough for you, is that it?” Wade felt a tear escape and roll down his cheek. An odd intensity of anger and sadness rumbled through him. It was all too overwhelming. He could barely keep his grip on the steering wheel.

“Wade?” Peter confusedly reached out for Wade, but he pulled back. Wade had a gun on him and was obviously not afraid to use it. “W-Wade, please, just pull over right now and we ca—”

Wade’s cry was short-lived. “I love you, I really do Peter, I really love you with all my heart and lungs and left kidney, but if it comes down to me against you, then I am not letting you win.” Wade laughed. His sudden mood swings were scaring Peter. Wade had managed to go from angry to sad to giddy all within a matter of minutes. Something was going on, but Peter had no idea what. He was completely in the dark with Wade now. “I don’t want us to hurt each other, but look at what it all comes down to!” Wade noticed the red light at the last moment and crashed into the car ahead of him.

The crash didn’t cause any injuries thankfully, but the taxi cab and the car ahead of them were damaged. A man came out of the car and ran over to Wade. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re paying for this!”

Wade loudly laughed and took the man and Peter by the shoulders and led them to the apartment’s pool. He had an unshakable grip on the both of them. Even with cancer, Wade had proven to be stronger than Peter.

Wade threw the man inside of the pool and held his head against the pool wall with his foot. Peter watched helplessly, still trying to get out of Wade’s grip. There was something eerie about it all. Wade was kicking the side of the man’s head inside of the pool. The man that had been found with Gwen was revealed to have been held against the pool wall and kicked in his autopsy. Peter put the thought out of his mind. It was a coincidence, he thought to himself, tried to convince himself, but he knew better.

Peter was dragged up to Wade’s room. Wade locked the door behind him. He looked at Peter for a moment. Peter stared back. Wade’s skin was hot and his pupils were blown wide. He must have been high on something. It wasn’t weed. Maybe cocaine? Peter wasn’t too bright on Wade’s drug uses.

Wade grabbed the back of Peter’s head and forced for the two of them to kiss. Peter tried to push Wade off, but Wade continued to push and prod until he got Peter’s mouth to open. He ran his tongue across Peter’s and pulled him closer. Only when he was satisfied, did he finally part.

“Time to make a decision. Me or you?” Wade was being nonsensical to the maximum. “Pick: me or you Peter. It’s that simple.” Peter was scared out of his wits and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t figure out how to work around an angered, high Wade or to come up with a good response. His mind drew a blank. He felt like a deer in the headlights at the wrong moment. “You’re thinking too hard. C’mon, just pick.”

In that moment of distraction, Peter managed to reach down and steal the gun from out of Wade’s pocket. Wade quickly reached across to the side table and took the gun from there. It was a wonder how Wade managed to think logically while in such a state. Peter’s hands shook as he pointed the gun at Wade, aiming right in between his eyes.

“Wade, I don’t want to do this. Let’s just put the guns down and work this out, okay?”

“No. I like this better.”

“Wha—? No, Wade. I love you too and I don’t want to have to shoot you. I don’t want to hurt you. Remember when you said that you didn’t want us to hurt each other? I don’t want to either. Come on Wade, just put it down.” On the outside, the entire situation was ridiculous. They were both pointing guns at each other for no reason. Peter bit back a sob. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Wade, but Peter was crumbling apart all over again. “I don’t want to kill anybody and I know that you don’t want to kill anymore either. Let’s just stop this.”

Wade began to sway slightly and hum. It took Peter a moment to recognize it as “London Bridge Is Falling Down.” He continued to hold the gun up despite his confusion. He couldn’t let his guard down, not when Wade was furious and unpredictable.

“It’s nice to hear you say that you love me,” Wade said. Peter almost cried in relief. He felt like he had finally broken through to Wade. “But I know a lie when I hear one, high or sober.” They both pulled the trigger at the same time.


End file.
